Tributes and Tribulations
by Number One Fan of Journey
Summary: Viola Cadaverini is reaped for the 15th Hunger Games despite her family's riches. Adrian Andrews must struggle against the other tributes as well as her own weaknesses. But the other tributes are fighting against them, and something strange seems to be happening beneath the usual competition...
1. Even You

Author's Note: Well, hello, everyone. I guess I'm actually writing this. Welcome aboard.

Major spoilers for _Phoenix Wright: Ace Tribute_ lie ahead. It's more of a tie-in than a sequel, seeing as it's not quite in the same whodunnit vein as its predecessor, since it's a little hard to keep up the same act with the main cast out of the picture. Same rules as the first story otherwise.

As you may have guessed, most of the characters this time around are from _Trials and Tribulations_, but with a few from _Justice For All_.

I do hope you'll enjoy.

* * *

_I can't see the man's face in the low, flickering light. There's only a silhouette with a thin, glowing border. I recognize that he's bald_—_and then I realize I know his voice._

_"What you must understand_—_" he folds his hands under his chin_—_"is that your Games did not exist."_

_The Games... weren't real...? Can I believe that? But if it's him... how could I not...?_

_"You are alive."_

_I'm not sure how I got here, but I must be safe if _he's _with me._

_He falls silent for a minute before looking down. "You'll have to talk to some government workers first. They'll see you in a moment. And then_—_then we will be able to go home." He stands, offering me a hand. "All right, Violetta?"_

_Realizing I'm seated, I reach for him. "All right..."_

* * *

"You're wearing that old dress again?"

I smooth out the long sleeve before dropping my arms. "Yes... It's my favorite, after all..."

Grandpa chuckles, rubbing the shoulder of the brown fabric. "It's hard to argue with that. Are you ready to go? Your brother's in the car."

"Ah_—_" I grip my elbow_. _"Actually... I should probably check my hair..."

"All right. You still have a couple minutes."

I nod and drift to my bathroom. Mirrors line the wall, but I only need one at the moment. It's just reaping day, not a celebration. I'll spend plenty of time getting ready for the dinner tonight, so there's no need to pretty up everything now.

The bandages are pushing my hair up again. As tight as they're wrapped around my skull, I can still pull my hair down and back beneath it if I'm careful. It'll be a mess again in a few hours, I know. I'm not sure when I'll be able to take these off, but I suppose I'm grateful they're there.

If they weren't, I'd still be dead.

I sprinkle some water on my bangs to kill the static. I look presentable now, I think. I'll just straighten out my bow a bit, and then I'll be ready to go.

* * *

The fifteen-year-old section is crowded, but I'm given a wide berth. Nothing unusual. Those who... work... for us may be confined to the sidelines, but they'd still see if anyone here wronged me somehow. That teen's family wouldn't be celebrating tonight... Hee... Hee... Hee...

I still doubt much could happen to me at a reaping. Besides the event itself, at least. My name shouldn't be picked, though. We certainly don't have any tessarae slips, so there's really no danger until I'm eighteen. Even then I doubt I would be in trouble. There are too many people protective me for me to get into any trouble. I... can't get into other things, like friendships... but that's all right. I still have my grandpa, and my brother, and even everyone who works for us. Although the guards don't like to chat much.

The escort comes onstage, and the usual antics begin. I don't pay much attention to the words. It's more entertaining to watch the kids around me. Some of the eyes glaze in boredom, some dilate in fear, and others flick back and forth, unsure exactly how nervous they should be.

After announcing that the boy's name is about to be drawn, he waits for a minute. I clap a few times, but that's far from enough cheer to satiate him. Growling at our lack of respect, he hurls seeds at the reaping crowd until at least everyone within his range starts clapping. He sniffs before nodding and walking to the bowl of names.

"Mister—how the heck do you pronounce this? In my day, men were given names you could actually say—" He cuts off as an assistant gives him a throat-cutting motion. "Hmph. Well, the chosen one is something that sounds like... Furio Tigre."

"_What?!_" The eighteen-year-old replying sounds more angry than shocked. I can hear his low growl from here as the few closest to him press themselves against the rest of the crowd. Gravel scrapes as a man with spikes of black hair and a well-tailored orange suit charges for the stage. He stomps right up to the escort, who scowls up at him.

Furio snarls at him before snatching the piece of paper from his hand. Without a second look at the thing, he rips it to pieces that he throws to the ground and spits on.

He jerks his head at the escort. "Youse wanna tell me what I'm doin' up here? 'Cause I don't see nothin' that says I got reaped."

The escort growls a little himself. "Do you think you're going to get out of this with a cheap trick like that, boy?" He rubs his nose. "Just for that, I'm not calling for vol—!"

Furio interrupts with a thundering roar. Some among the crowd cover their ears, but I'm not quick enough. The best I can do is grip my elbow harder until the sound fades.

Once my mind surfaces from the fright, I can't help but think the tiger stitched across the front of his suit matches him perfectly.

The Tiger... He's not...?

The silence of the reaping field presses in until the escort looks out at us. He blinks a few times. "Um, are there any volunteers?"

Furio glares out at the crowd, but no one stirs. I doubt he meant to freeze us all to the spot, but we haven't had any volunteers in this district, anyway. And he looks more than big enough to fight for himself. No matter how he looks at us, no one is going to step up.

"Okay." Giving him a wise berth, the escort walks over to the girls' bowl with a lot less fuss and pulls out a slip. "And your female tribute this year is... Viola Cadaverini."

That's my name...

I look around for someone to start walking up to the stage, but everyone's just staring at me.

This isn't right... He read the slip... Where's the tribute...?

I wobble for another moment before the pieces click together. With an inhale, I take a step forward and then another. He called my name, so I have to walk onstage. That's how it works. All I have to do is walk onstage...

I climb the steps and stand on the escort's right. On the other side, Furio has gone silent. I can feel him looking at me, but he turns away sweating every time I glance his way.

"Volunteers?" The escort rubs his nose.

I scan the eyes in the crowd. A few are looking away. Some stare blankly. Some get teary with relief. I don't see any indecision. Anyone considering volunteering.

My gaze strays from the teenage crowd to the sidelines. A few of the adults look around in confusion. Most have their eyes half-closed in relief.

One has his eyes open wide, trembling like the rest of him.

Grandpa... scared...?

Y-yes...

He's scared... for me...

I'm in danger...

I cover my mouth as the tears start to gather. I've been reaped... I've been reaped... No one's volunteering... No...! I-I'm too weak...! Someone help... Help me...

Shaking, I manage not to lock my knees as the escort ends his call for volunteers. He inspects my dress, frowns, and turns back to the crowd without another glance at Furio.

"I present your tributes for the Fifteenth Annual Hunger Games." He sniffs and takes a step back. "I'll lead you to the Justice Building now."

"The Tiger don't take orders," Furio snarls before charging off. Two Peacekeepers lunge for him, one at each arm. He roars, but he can only yank his arm up once before the Peacekeeper on that side wrenches his shoulder around and locks it. Furio keeps growling, unable to suppress a wince of pain, but he walks along with the two towards the Justice Building.

I just stumble behind the escort.

* * *

The guard has just stationed himself at the door before Grandpa swoops in and embraces me. He has no advice, no admonitions, no reassurance. He just holds me, strokes my hair, and mumbles "piccina" over and over. I bury my face in his shoulder and hug him back. It's all either of us can do. What can we say...? I can't fight... I can't survive... I don't have the strength... in any sense. And a few words right now won't change that.

But at least we do have right now... One more moment together... At least there's this much...

Grandpa pulls away, and I start to feel cold. My eyes don't open until he pushes my bangs away with warm fingers and kisses my forehead. I don't see his face before he turns around and leaves. The guard, who hasn't budged until now, gives him a nod as he passes outside. And then I'm left alone.

Why... did he leave? There's still time, isn't there...? Usually the Peacekeepers... have to drag the family away... You can hear them fighting as you leave the town square... What else would Grandpa want to be doing...?

Maybe he's just confused... I know I am...

I stare at the door for a least a minute before my brother comes in.

"Viola." He exhales as he sits on the couch next to me.

"Celio..." I watch him, but he continues to fix his gaze on the door.

"I'll try not to say too much we already know. Just remember that crazy things can happen in that arena. The only thing that you can do is refuse to give up. And, uh..." He leans forward a bit, peering further out the door. "Try to stick with your district partner. I have a feeling you'll get along pretty well."

I grip my elbow. "You... think so...?"

Furio... seems like... an interesting person, certainly. And he looks strong... I'm not sure... why he'd want to associate with me, in this kind of situation...

My brother nods. "So stick with him, all right? There's nothing the rest of us can do now but donate some cash. It's up to you where things go from there." Pressing his palms on his knees, he pushes himself to his feet.

"I... understand."

He finally meets my gaze for a second before turning around. His eyes...

"Goodbye, Viola. Good luck."

"G... Goodbye..."

He walks out the door. The guard only allows me a few more moments to myself before pulling me to my feet roughly and leading me out.

My brother seemed conflicted... He was definitely upset... sad... but... there was a flicker of anticipation behind his eyes... somehow...

I... I know he's jealous of me... Afraid Grandpa would rather pass the reigns to me that him... but... would he really...

Would he really... be all right with me dying...?

My thoughts are frozen again by that roar. But the Peacekeeper beside me is still pushing me along, and I end up stumbling ahead.

"Get outta my face!" I recognize Furio's snarl even while my eyes are unfocused. He's beside me now, I think... trying to shoo the cameras away.

Maybe that's not the right way to phrase it... when he's so successful...

Although my ears are still ringing, I'm glad to have him next to me... Even in something this small... he's keeping others away from me, in a way...

Will we really make friends...?

I only catch his eye for a moment. Sweating, he just turns back to the distant cameras and growls.


	2. Associates

"Dinner'll be when the bell rings. Go get changed into something appropriate in the meantime." The escort is still only looking at me as the taps a framed map of the train on the wall. My room is two cars down, with Furio just past me.

My district partner takes one look at the map and charges out the side door. The escort gives a sigh of relief before squinting at me again.

"Well? What are you still doing here? Gonna ask me to get you a glass of water or something?"

"Ah... No..." I take a step back before hurrying to the next car.

The hall area is already clear, but the floor is still shaking from Furio's stomping. He certainly got through in a hurry... I don't think he wants to talk to me... I don't know why he would... Why did Celio think we would get along...?

But... we've only just been reaped. Maybe he just... needs some time to himself right now... I... could probably use it, too...

Without a sound, I step to the next door and slip through.

* * *

The train moves, the meals go by without conversation, and soon I'm alone again in the stylist room. It's... uncomfortable... There's not much to think about... but this demeaning treatment... and the Games themselves...

Furio... He seems more shaken than I thought he would be. As strong as he is... As animated as he was at the reaping... Why... has he so suddenly gone silent? He would... still snarl if we tried to talk to him... but that was it. He wouldn't look at me much, either... I couldn't really read... whether he was afraid or angry...

I wonder... if I should force talking to him... or just leave him alone...

I still haven't reached a conclusion when my stylist rolls a full-body mirror in front of me.

"Well, dear flower? What do you think?" His eyes flash in anticipation, although it takes me a minute to turn my head and look. I haven't been sleeping enough... or eating enough, really. I don't see how anyone could, in this situation...

Swinging my head over, I gaze dully at the mirror.

I—

I...

I look well.

I... Is this really my reflection...?

My arms hang at my sides as I lean a bit closer. You can't tell at all that I've been losing sleep. My eyes look... bright, almost. I could barely tell they were mine if they weren't blinking along with me.

Likewise, my dress has a lot of padding and fluff. A pale yellow ribbon wraps around the thinnest part of my waist, but the dress fabric bunches and falls away from it on either side. The skirt reaches to my ankles, and the sleeves billow away not far from my wrists. I'm sure, if you paid extra attention to those few spots, you could tell how thin I really am... but most people would be busier letting their eyes wander along the folds and complex, spotted patterns of the fabric.

My hair looks thicker than usual beneath the floppy-brimmed hat that just covers my bandages. It casts a bit of shade over my face, but not enough to deprive my makeup of its effect.

"Well?" The stylist gives me a sharp-toothed grin.

I stare at the mirror for another minute. "I... didn't know I could look like this..."

My stylist responds with a hearty laugh. "Such is why I love this job. Now, come, my flower; we must get you to the chariots. I, of course, look forward to working with you at another time. But now we must hurry."

"Understood..."

He leads me out of the room and down to the first floor, where many tributes and stylists mill about. The costumes are in all colors; it's kind of interesting to watch all of the motion from a distance. The horses have a certain earthy smell to them, but they look clean enough that I'd like to pet them. I don't know if I'd be allowed, though... I'd better not...

The horse for District 9 is a sort of dappled grey. He eyes me as I approach, but he only blinks and flicks his tail a bit.

My district partner is already on the chariot. From this angle, I can only tell that he's wearing a different suit, one in the color of wheat. It goes... interestingly with his skin tone.

We still have a bit of time... but it's not as if I'm going to talk to the other tributes... I don't feel like doing anything of the sort... just yet.

Instead I eye the lower step to the District 9 chariot and grab the side of the cab for balance.

"Ah—Violetta." A hand pulls my other arm up steadily, and I hurry to step up into the chariot.

Furio...?

Gripping my elbow out of habit, I look up at him. He eyes me nervously before exhaling and staring ahead, past the horse. He shoves his hands in his suit pockets before taking them out and leaning his forearms on the front edge.

"Dat's your name, right?"

"Ah..." My toes curl in my shoes. "You... can call me Violetta..."

He nods once, crossing a foot behind his other ankle. "All right. Youse don't gotta call me The Tiger or anything. We're in dis together, I guess. Associates, the two of us."

He... He really is... The Tiger...? Although I can't say... that's what surprises me most...

"You mean... allies...?"

He turns his head to look at me, and his eyes are unreadable. His eyebrows are lowered, but very rarely are they not.

"Yeah, I guess dat's the terminology 'round here. Allies, den." He straightens up and turns to face me. "So what are youse gonna bring to the table?"

"Bring...? Oh." I gaze out at the other tributes, who are filing towards their respective chariots now. "I guess... Well, I can cook. I... can start a fire easily... although it's not usually the kind you can stop... Hee... Hee... Hee..." I turn back to him. "Aside from that... I'm pretty good with poisons... and that's it. I can't fight... or run... or anything like that..."

"All right... Guess I can work wit dat." He rolls his shoulders back.

"I suppose... I don't even have to ask how useful you'd be..."

The guarded look in his eyes finally gives way to a flash of pride. "Any deadbeat'd figure dat out. I know youse hearda me. Believe me, I got my share of experience beatin' up clients what don't pay their bills on time." He sticks his tongue out far enough he could bite it in half with a little effort.

"Beating up...?" I watch the stylists give their subjects a few last tips and drift away. Mine just motions at me to smile, so I give him a nod. Furio's doesn't seem to be around. "What... do you mean by that...?"

"Yanno, nothin' much. Usually it's just breakin' a coupla bones, landin' a coupla bruises." He frowns at the chariots ahead of us and stands up straighter. "But I can do a lot worse dan that, don't you worry, Violetta. I just gotta aim a little different."

The look in his eyes hardens, and his gaze flicks down and to the right. Some memory... he doesn't seem very happy about...

But... I already knew... The Tiger didn't gain his position, or his wealth... by being softhearted...

So I do wonder... why he'd ally with me...

I'm sure I'll find out... But right now, the anthem is beginning, and the first horses are walking out. I need to stand tall and smile... Although getting made up... was tiring...

Our horse beings to clip-clop along not long after District 1 is out, but sunlight doesn't brush over us for another minute.

My legs are already wobbling... I mustn't lock my knees...

Furio gives me a perplexed glance as we're thrown along the Capitolite-lined path. The bass of the anthem sends an extra tremor through the chariot, but I can still hear the colorful fans cheering us on. Some flowers make it to us, although I think the tributes before us took the lion's share.

I should be waving right now... I think... But by now... I'm afraid I might lose my balance...

"Hey."

I turn my head towards Furio, who's eyeing me with his brow lifted. Despite the noise, I can hear him clearly—although he's never had any trouble being loud.

"Youse can always hold onta the chariot. As long as youse ain't leaning on anything, it won't make youse look bad."

"Ah..." I nod and grip the edge of the chariot in front of me. With our horse pulling us forward, this at least puts some of the strain onto my arms instead. As long as I don't lean...

I take a deep breath and gaze out at the crowd again, smiling. Some of the onlookers seem to ignore our chariot. Most that don't focus on Furio. They're already writing him down as a good bet... and writing me off, probably. I may not look ill at the moment... but I hardly look muscular... And the saw me at the reaping as well... They know my district partner has a much better chance...

I wonder what they'll think of us... being allies...

* * *

Furio finally seems ready to talk at dinner, but I'm too exhausted to hold up my end of the conversation. He leaves me alone before long.

Sorry... I'm sure I'll feel better... in the morning... For now, I'll just go to bed...

I leave the table before anyone has finished dessert, and I'm not followed out. After stumbling into a sleep gown, I collapse onto the mattress. I could care less about getting all of the pillows out of the way. I just want to lie here... for a long, long time...

A few minutes pass before loud footsteps thump by outside. Furio, probably...

So we're allies... in the Hunger Games...

It's such an odd thought... The Games. Kill or be killed... Which is worse...? To give up on life... or to take someone else's...?

If... I'm going to be in an alliance... I'll have to at least try to stay alive... and all that that entails. Otherwise... I'd be betraying Furio... when he's putting so much at risk staying with me...

But... it's still hard to think about murdering... It's one thing to hurt or frighten people... It's another matter entirely to end their existences...

I'm sure... The Tiger has done such a thing before... I've only heard rumors, of course, but... Even before he inherited that loan business... he wasn't an average District 9 citizen. I think most people are struggling... but he was even worse off...

Although I don't know that for sure. Maybe I'll ask him... It wouldn't hurt... to get to know each other... right?

I pull a cooler pillow under my head before I drift off.


	3. Limiting Bonds

We go down to the training floor in an empty elevator. The others must be there already. I took a little too long nibbling on breakfast, I think. I hadn't been checking clocks, and no one felt like telling me to hurry.

The doors slide open, Furio and I walk out, and the cloth between my shoulder blades shifts as something is safety-pinned to my shirt. Before I can turn to check, Furio shouts at the blue-shirted worker trying to get behind him.

"Hey! Youse don't sneak up on me unless you wanna get whacked."

Stiff-shouldered with alarm, he snarls as the worker, gripping a paper labeled "9," looks ot her fellow employee for help. Her eyes are so startled it's hard for me to keep a straight face.

"Give it." Furio tears her hand off the paper and glares until she willingly forfeits the safety pin. He checks over his shoulder again before pinning the number to the front of his shirt and storming ahead.

"Come on, Violetta."

"Ah." I nod and scurry after him.

The other tributes have already gathered around an athletic-looking man in a slightly different blue uniform. I step up quietly, behind the reasonably short girl from 10. I still have to peer around her, but it doesn't look like I'll really need to see the instructor ahead. It would be nice, but... Here, I'm not the Cadaverini granddaughter... I'm just another tribute... I have no power.

"You! Move it." Furio, taking a big step in front of me, seizes the bare shoulder of the girl in front of us.

"Excuse me?" She turns, her eyes narrowed. Once she strains her neck enough to look Furio over, she frowns and squishes closer to her district partner.

"Ah!" The brunette laughs lightly. "Dude, if you wanted to cuddle, you could have just asked."

She locks her gaze straight forward. "Don't make yourself more of a nuisance than you already are."

Furio makes those on the other side scoot over as the 10 boy folds his arms.

"Aw, lighten up a little, Adrian. You're just as bad as our mentor."

She wordlessly tightens her rolled-up sleeve.

"Violetta?"

"Ah..." I look up to see Furio beckoning me towards the front. "Thank you..."

The instructor gives my district partner a bemused but disapproving look before starting on his speech. His name is Neoptolem, but we can call him Neo. He and the other workers are here to assist us. Fighting between tributes is not allowed.

He glances at Furio during that part.

Various stands are available to teach us combat and survival skills. Lunch will be provided here, and no one is to leave this floor of the building until we all break for dinner, after which we will remain in the building until this same hour tomorrow. One the third day, we'll train in the morning and demonstrate our skills to the Gamemakers in the afternoon. We're expected to give them a great show, so we should do our best to polish our skills while we can.

We are free to train.

Adrian stalks off immediately, and her district partner seems a bit confused but wanders away from Neo. The crowd of tributes slowly continues to disperse as I look to Furio.

"Where should we start...?"

He frowns. "Think I'll go for the axes. Youse wanna come with, or try somethin' else?"

I rub my thin arm just above my elbow. I'm not going to be swinging any axes... "I'll... try the plant station..."

"All right. You let me know if somebody's givin' you a hard time." He glances at one of the workers, frowns, and turns back to me.

"Thanks..."

He gives me a nod before starting off for the axe station. It takes a bit of wandering before I can locate the sign for the edible plants stand. Just edible ones...? It would be useful... to know the poisonous ones as well...

Another tribute is already seated at the square table, so I take the seat across from her. An array of leaves are set out before us, but it's not very clear what we're supposed to be doing.

"H-hello."

I tilt my chin up to watch the girl across from me. Her voice was rather small, and she looks too young to be here at all, but I guess she isn't. The quicky little pretzel she's styled her hair into doesn't make her seem any more mature, either.

She stares at me before flicking her gaze to the side and chewing on her thumbnail. "Um, I don't know where the instructor went, but she said all of the leaves laid out right now is itself edible."

"She did...?" I look over the leaves, but only one looks familiar. I never would have thought to eat it back home, though... Or felt the need to...

I sift through the papery, green sheets for a minute, but the instructor still doesn't make an appearance. Maybe she's busy with another stand... There's really not much for her to do here if we're only memorizing the shape and texture of certain leaves...

"My name is Pearl Fey." The girl across from me has sat up a bit more, her eyes bright. She's more willing to speak now, I guess, now that I've lost my interest in the leaves for the time being. "I'm from District 5."

"...Viola Cadaverini... District 9. Nice to meet you..."

"You, too!" She scoots her leaves into a pile. "Do you do a lot of cooking?"

Why would she...? Oh. I guess a cook would be the most interested in this stand...

"Not really... I do bake a lot, though. And make coffee... Very strong coffee..."

"I've never had coffee..." She hesitates before brightening up again. "But I'm sure I'd love to taste yours. What do you bake? I—I'm great at little cakes!"

She's really anxious... It's almost making me upset. But I'm actually... kind of numb right now. I can keep talking.

"I'm best with cookies..."

"I bet they're great!" She nods enthusiastically before staring back at her leaves. "But we can't really cook anything for each other right now, can we?"

"I don't think so... They might consider it too dangerous..."

She puts a hand over her mouth. "Dangerous? I—" She pushes up one of her sleeves—"I'm sure you're not that bad of a cook!"

I chuckle, and she shivers a bit.

"Thank you..."

"Ah! I'm sorry!" calls someone from my right. I swing my head around to see a uniformed instructor hurrying toward us. As she draws nearer, why I thought was a scar across her cheek turns out to be a thin line of a welt. "Another tribute was being uncooperative, and I tried to help out."

She taps a few fingers to her cheek and winces. "I'll get you started—" she nods at me—"and grab some ice. So, what you have in front of you now is all edible—but only the leaves."

"She told me..." I glance at Pearl.

"Okay. Okay." The instructor wipes her hands on her thighs. "I'll get you some more samples—these will be plants whose roots are edible. Memorize them, mix them up with the other leaves, separate them. Good way to learn." She hurries to a bin at the far side of the station and snatches several leaves. Hurrying back over, she dumps some on my side and some on Pearl's. "I'll be back. Tch."

I watch her go before turning back to the table and the girl on the other side of it.

* * *

"That's all of them. Good job, ladies." The instructor leans back in her personal chair. "You can come back to review later, but there are other skills to learn out there. Go knock yourselves out."

I nod. I should probably catch up with Furio...

"Miss Viola?"

In the middle of getting to my feet, I pause and look at Pearl. She's already standing.

"Yes...?"

"Can I—" her smile fades to a serious, lucid-eyed stare—"...trust you?"

"What do you mean...?"

She keeps her eyes locked on mine. "If we meet in the arena, will we still be friends?"

"I..." That's a big promise to make... but... Pearl? If I were to meet her in the arena... we would either be friends... or trying to kill each other.

Trying to kill her would just... be evil...!

"I think... we could be friends... Yes."

She smiles. "I'm glad. So—" She puts a hand on her nine-shaped necklace. I'm sure I've seen it somewhere... on television...? "—if you see anyone wearing this necklace, don't hurt them, okay?"

I draw back. Anyone? She could give that to any of the tributes here...

My eyes drag across the aisle of the stands, all of the tributes I don't know who need me dead to get out alive. Is this... a promise I can make?

Pearl gives me that stare again. "I don't mean them."

She disappears before I can figure out how to respond. With a sigh, I just get up and start walking towards the axe stand. Furio should be easy to spot, even if he's moved on from where he started. I'd rather not spend much time wandering, though...

"Come on, Ronnie! You've got to try harder than that!"

I eye one stand, a particularly long one with a length of rubbery track bordering the aisle. An instructor sits at one end with a timer in hand. Two tributes, both from 6, catch their breath as they walk away from him.

"But Dessie! You know I'm never going to beat you!"

The woman, her large earrings swinging, smiles. "Not with an attitude like that, you aren't. Come on—give it your best shot this time."

The... man, I guess... slumps. "But I _have_ been giving it my best shot..." He tilts his head to the side, eyes focusing off to his side. "No, that's not right. I guess it's impossible to give my best shot everytime... But maybeit depnds n hwy th..." I can't hear what he's saying anymore, but his mouth keeps moving for a while longer.

"Oh, hey!"

I snap my gaze back to the woman, who's smiling at me, one hand on her hip.

"Do you want in on the next sprint?" she asks. "Maybe Ronnie'll do a little better if he's not just trying to beat me."

"Oh... I... That's all right..." The man flinches at my voice as I take a step back.

His district partner comes to a stop. "Sorry. I guess I'm being a little pushy when I don't even know you. I'm Desireé DeLite. This is my husband, Ron."

I can feel my eyes widen. "Ah. I-I... I'm..." I can't figure out whether I'm trying to introduce myself or give condolences.

"Are dese two givin' you a hard time?"

I recognize the shout before I see Furio step up next to me, leaning in towards the DeLites with a snarl. Desireé just flinches, but Ron emits a whining screech and stumbles over his feet. My ears ring so violently from his outburst, I can barely stay standing myself.

"No, no." Desireé puts a hand on her chest. "We were only introducing ourselves."

"Why should I believe _youse_?" Furio doesn't budge.

"She's... telling the truth." I step up next to him. "It's nothing..."

"It better be." He gives the two another glare that sends Ron clenching and unclenching his fists. Then Furio starts walking. I follow, letting the pair slip away from my thoughts as they slip out of my sight.


	4. Stay Together

I'm just as hopeless at throwing knives as I expected. Even if I don't have to struggle with another tribute up close, I'm too weak to pierce flesh from a distance. I'm lucky if my knife sticks to the target at all.

Furio doesn't have quite the same problem. His aim's a little worse than mine—which is pretty bad to begin with—but if he does hit something, he'll kill it.

He's a better bet with a short-range weapon... So we won't worry about getting knives for anything other than survival.

Speaking of which... we should try a game preparation stand soon... I like the taste of raw meat, every once in a while... but we'll have to be careful.

"Attention, tributes!" The call comes from overhead, but nowhere near as much static crackles behind it as I would expect. Nicer system than at school, I guess. "Please wrap up your morning training and come back towards the elevators. Tables are set up, and a lunch buffet is ready for you to enjoy." A small click as the announcement ends.

"All right! How's about we go get us some grub, den?" Furio stabs his last knife into the holder at the front of the station and turns to me.

"Sounds good..."

Although others have started towards the long line of buffet tables, he gets us both to the front with a little intimidation. The plate weighs heavy in my hands as I follow him, but I maintain my grip and keep going. We both get drinks and sit down next to each other.

"I'm gonna grab anudda plate."

"All right..." I watch him leave, then busy myself spreading out my silverware. It would be rude to eat without him...

"What is_ wrong_ with you?" a girl shouts. I turn towards the buffet to see a girl with long, brown hair streaming behind her as she storms in this direction.

"Just leave me alone!" She slams her half-full plate onto the far end of my table and puts her feet up on the bench across from her.

"Is that any way for you to treat me?" Stomping up towards her is another tribute who keeps clutching at the air when he's not pushing up his large glasses. "You were just another dime-a-dozen little axe-sharpener before I took you under my wing! You still won't show me any gratitude? You common ignoramuses are all the same!"

He approaches the spot next to the girl, and I stretch to slip my feet onto the top of the bench there. She mouths a "thank you" as he takes a step back.

"I've got half a mind to break off our alliance right now!" He grinds his teeth, and I honestly can't see anything but fury in his eyes.

"You want to fire me, go right ahead!" She turns to glare at him. "When I die in the arena, it'll be on your hands!"

"Ha!" He pushes up his glasses with his middle finger. "So you admit you'd die without my help!"

"Back _off_!"

"Fine. Fine! I don't want to deal with your incompetence any longer, anyway!" He charges back to the buffet line, and the girl's shoulders slump as she heaves a heavy sigh.

Halfway underneath the table, I get the soles of my shoes back on the ground and claw at the table to sit back up. Furio's plate tilts up under my grip, and I let go before anything can slide off. The plate spins a little in the process and knocks over Furio's cup.

"Ah...!"

The tumbler clanks onto its side as ice water spills over the food and onto the table.

"Oh—" The girl at the edge of the table grabs a handful of her napkins and scoots over, sopping up the spill. "Here." She gives the table a few extra rubs before returning the soaked napkins to the side of her plate.

"Thanks..." I sit up more properly and set the cup upright.

"No problem." She casts another glance at the buffet table and sighs, resting her forehead on her hand. "Dr. Grey's such a..." She shakes her head and, exhaling, looks back at me. "Sorry about that. I—" Her eyes suddenly come into sharp focus. "Are you injured?"

"Oh..." I brush my fingers over my head bandage. "Not really... I do need to keep these on, but... the operation was a while ago."

"Operation?" Her index finger rubs at the back of her knife. "What kind of operation?"

"I'm... not sure..." My hand drops back to the table. "I only know it was very expensive... We had to call in surgeons from the Capitol..."

"Wow," she whispers, cutting up her chicken without moving her eyes away from my bandage. "I'm surprised any districtgoer could afford that."

Well... The Cadaverinis aren't just any districtgoers...

"Did they put you on any medication afterwards?"

"Um..." I take a sip of my drink. "Some pain medication, I think..."

"Yeah? What kind?" She chews on her chicken. "Probably morphling. Although if you're not sure... Was it a pill? Oxycodone's pretty common, too, although—" She cuts off, blinking. "I'm getting over-excited, aren't I? Gah, I haven't even introduced myself, with all the hubbub. Sorry. Um, my name's Mimi Miney. I work at the main District 7 hospital under _someone_ who needs to get over himself."

"I'm Viola Cadaverini. I... don't work yet..." And probably never will...

I swallow and continue. "You mean your district partner...? How old is he...?"

"Seventeen. Only one year older than me, but he's a genius. He has just as good a record as the adult surgeons there, case for case. Unfortunately, it's gone to his head." Sighing, she shakes her head. "He's an outright slave driver. It's a wonder he hasn't criticized me to death."

"Then... why were you still working for him...? If he was that bad...?"

"Well, he needed _someone_." She cuts off another piece of meat. "And, the way we met, I... It wasn't something I could back out of easily."

"Huh..."

I can hear Furio coming before he ever says a word. Putting his plate of steak down, he catches sight of the water-and-ice-covered food and draws in a breath. I plug my ears and look at Mimi urgently, but she doesn't get the message in time.

"_Gwoaaaaaaaaaaaaar!_"

Mimi's nails go white as she grips the edge of the table, but she doesn't come close to falling off the bench.

"Look at dis!" He slams a hand next to the ruined dish. "I goes up first to gets the best food they got, and now it's swimmin'!" He snarls at Mimi. "You do dis? Youse gonna be swimmin' on the wrong side a' de Styx!"

"Aah!" She swings her knees around from under the table.

"N-no... Furio." Gripping my elbow, I learn towards him. "I knocked your cup over... I'm sorry..."

"Ah?" He turns, eyes me uncertainly, and slouches, clasping his hands in front of him and grinning sheepishly. "Aw, all right. It ain't nuttin'. I can't stay mad at you, Violetta. Youse too cute."

Face heating up, I laugh and pull back.

Does he... really think I'm cute...?

I fiddle with my fork for a minute before I realize Mimi is gone.

* * *

My long lesson at the game-cleaning station is a private one. I'm pretty comfortable with the process by the time the training floor closes, though.

I wait for the next elevator as Furio catches up to me. He's still panting. Training with weapons until the end, I suppose...

"How did you do...?"

He glances at me. "Good. Real good."

The elevator dings before we can say anything else, and we walk through the open doors. The pair from 12 follow us in but stay at the sides. Furio narrows his eyes at the male—he's pretty big in his own right, but too soft-looking to warrant more than the usual amount of intimidation. The girl, a slim tribute with two braids wrapped around the sides of her head like a halo, doesn't look much stronger than me.

Her gaze meets mine, and she smiles in embarrassment before I get the chance to look away.

The room stays silent, and Furio and I step out onto our story. The elevator doors behind us shut before he looks at me.

"I dunno about youse, but I'm takin' a bath before dinner."

"That's a good idea..." I'm not sweating nearly as much as he is, but I might as well take a shower now... if we aren't eating yet, anyway.

We split off to our rooms and clean up before getting back to the dinner table. They didn't start without us, at least. Of course, we're sort of the honored guests...

The conversation is just a summary of our day training. Furio covered the axes, makeshift weapons, spears, and knives—both close-range and distant. It sounds a lot more impressive than what I did... but both sides are important. As long as we stick together... we shouldn't have any problems...

I eat more than I expected to before the Avoxes come to clean up the table. Furio approaches the door to the common room at the same as me but takes a step back.

"Ladies first."

"Thanks..." I step through and head towards the couch. It's a little too soon to sleep... and I should probably learn more about the competition...

I locate the remote as Furio takes up the right side of the blue-green couch. After going through the guide, I sit down next to him and tune in to the Hunger Games channel. It's currently airing a commercial for a new kind of orange skin dye. I glance at Furio before looking down at my knees. He frowns but doesn't comment.

"So..." I turn back towards him. "You focused on weapons today...? No hand-to-hand...?"

"Heh." He smirks. "I checked out dat stand, but it was just a buncha sissy stances. Dat ain't how you fight when youse got your life on the line. Let the udda punks train there. I'll have 'em on the ground eatin' leather before dey even get their feet in the right place."

I lace my fingers together as the commercial fades to another one. "You... already know how to fight, then...?"

He cackles, shaking the couch in the process. He closes his eyes, but once they start to open, I catch a glimpse of pain. "Yeah. I done my share a' dat." He lets out a breath. "Don't you worry, Violetta. I can protect youse just fine."

Silent, I drop my gaze and listen as the television finally announces a return to the actual programming.

"Why...?"

I wouldn't be sure he had heard if he didn't glance at me.

"Why... do you want to protect me...?"

He breaks eye contact, swallowing. "Because I—" his nails brush his cheek before he smiles at me—"I care about you'."

I draw back a bit, and he takes a deep breath before staring ahead. "Youse know how it is. Nobody as dangerous as The Tiger is gonna be gettin' anywhere close to the one an' only granddaughter of Bruto Cadaverini." He shivers.

"O-oh..." Turning to stare at the television, I put my hands over my cheeks in an attempt to cool them down.

I... I-I didn't...

I-I should focus on the show... Yes...

I sneak one more glance at Furio before making myself stare at the television.


	5. Suicide

"...youse only sibling?"

After a morning of fishing practice, Furio and i have taken the first pick at lunch again and are sitting at the closest table.

Twisting my fork in the fettuccine, I nod. "How about you...?"

He exhales. "I had a coupla brothers. One sister."

Before he can continue, a dish clunks onto the table at a seat across from us. Sliding onto the bench while staring off at a corner of the ceiling is the boy from 10. I forget his name...

He moves his head a bit, not really focusing on anything as he maneuvers a piece of chicken to his mouth.

"Hey!" Finally getting his attention, Furio leans across the table. "I don't remember invitin' you to sit wit me."

"Huh? Oh..." He's actually ditzy enough to maintain his usual smile while Furio's staring him down. "Sorry, dudes." He stands and looks around before his mouth twists. "Have you seen Adrian anywhere?"

"Adrian...?"

Once he sees me going along with this, Furio sits back down, though his teeth are still bared.

"Yeah, you know." The 10 smiles again. "Blonde, grumpy, pretty small, wears glasses."

I swallow my bite of noodles as I job my memory. "I don't think so..." I set my fork down. "Isn't she... your district partner?"

"Yeah." He folds his arms, tilting his head to the side. "I didn't see her this morning, at breakfast or anything. I mean, it's not like she can run away or anything, but..."

"Huh..."

After another minute of looking dazed, he gets to his feet. "Thanks, anyway. See ya."

"Bye..."

Furio just snorts at him.

I turn back to my plate, but something dings before I can get another forkful ready. Furio immediately looks to the elevator, so I follow his gaze. The doors are opening—and then out steps Adrian, gripping a small notebook. As she silently strides to the buffet, I realize her left forearm is bandaged up from wrist to elbow.

"Adrian! Hey!" Her district partner sets his plate back down and starts towards her. She glances up, pushing some damp hair away from her face, but resumes filling her plate.

"Where _were_ you?" He folds his arms, looking more like he's pouting than genuinely concerned.

"Elsewhere." She dumps a spoonful of corn onto her plate. "Is there a problem?"

"Well, yeah. What happened to your arm?"

Even from here, I can hear her release a breath. "I tripped and broke a vase."

"Huh? The weird, swirly one on our floor? I thought I saw it fine earlier."

"It was the one in my room." She gives him an acid look before seizing a cup of coffee and walking. "If all you're interested in is trifling details, I don't have the time to waste talking to you."

"Okay..." He follows her for a bit. "I can at least carry something so you're not juggling all that. How about the notebook? Or was it Celeste's?"

"_Back off!_" Adrian turns on him, breathing heavily.

He just seems dazed and amused. "Hey, I was just—"

He jumps back with a shout as something snaps across his face. His hand flies to his jaw, and he stares wide-eyed at Adrian. Backing up, she frowns, both her hands still occupied.

"Matt Engarde!"

Another cracking noise, and the 10 boy cries out again.

"Only a fool would be foolish enough to foolishly breach such a subject this foolishly soon."

I peer around Matt's shoulder. Behind him, a tribute with short, light hair stretches a whip over her head.

How does she have that...?

"What subject we talkin' about here?" Furio's still snarling, but his eyes are intrigued.

The tribute with the whip narrows her eyes and brings her weapon around again. "Did I not just say that it was foolish to breach it?"

The thin strip of leather barely slashes across Furio's chin before he leaps on top of the table, roaring louder than ever. "Youse lookin' ta get dat pretty face mashed in good?"

She scoffs, tilting her head back a bit. "No lowly tribute is going to defeat Franziska von Karma. And the sooner you understand that, the better."

Furio roars and pounces. Franziska sidesteps him, but he swings a fist around before she has a chance to block. She snaps her whip around his punching arm—and then the workers are pulling them apart. Franziska doesn't get a hit on any of them before being subdued. Furio struggles for a minute, but another worker comes in to effectively restrain him.

"Not a bad punch," Franziska pants, "for a common thug. Of course, no one of von Karma blood could be defeated with such an attack." She grins, although she's tearing up from pain.

"Youse just wait for the arena! We'll see who's so common den!" Furio snarls, blood dribbling down his chin.

"Break it up!" One of the men in blue shirts wrests the whip from Franziska's hand and shakes it at her. "How did you smuggle this into the dining area?"

She just keeps smirking. "I'm not foolish enough to tell you that."

Then she and my district partner are roughhoused onto the elevator. The crowd of tributes I hadn't noticed before starts to drift away again, leaving me and the two from District 10. Matt rubs his cheek and frowns, while Adrian stands gripping her elbows and staring at the floor. The notebook lies by her foot, pieces of her plate as well as her cup lying a bit further in front of her. Trembling, she takes several breaths before kneeling to pick up the book. Then she turns and leaves for the training stations.

* * *

They tell me Furio is to be detained for two hours of training time today. So I'm left to explore on my own. Ah, well. As long as he's not hurt that badly... It will be fine...

I end up at the water purification stand. The male tribute from 11 is already there, but he only gives me a nod before retreating into his own thoughts. The instructor hands me a brochure and some supplies and tells me to ask for help if I need it. He returns to his seat and stares across the aisle at the woman running the simple shelter station.

I'm struggling to keep my charcoal from leaving its layer when the 11 sighs.

"I still can't believe it." He's mumbling, probably so he doesn't accidentally spit out the grass he's chewing on.

"I'm sorry...?"

He sighs, letting his hands hang off his knees, and looks at me. "What happened last night."

I try to wipe some of the black smear off my fingers. "Should I... know what happened?"

His eyebrows lift. "I guess you haven't heard." He takes the grass out of his mouth and spins it between his fingers. "Earlky this morning, I went to the roof for some halfway fresh air, and when I happened to look down... just past the edge of the building... There was a body on the ground, blood all around it."

He puts the piece of grass back in his mouth and grinds it between his molars. "I let some people know, they started investigating. It turned out to be Celeste Inpax, the mentor for District 10. They're pretty sure she jumped herself. Thought she wrote a suicide note, although they didn't find it." He pauses, his look hardening before he shakes his head. "I know the life of a victor is a hard one, but... right now?"

"Y... Yeah..."

District 9's mentor drank himself to death two years ago... It was still terrible... but it was another month after the Games that year had ended. If he had been around to teach me and Furio, and killed himself today... Where would that leave us?

"I hear she was close to both of her district's tributes this year, too." He rubs his forehead. "I don't know. I hear they're going to put up some safety net or something so this can't happen again. That's nice, at least..." He looks up. "Although there's a much better way to stop that..."

...No more victors, you mean...?

"Sorry." He rubs at the top of his head. "I'll let you get back to your work."

I slide my gaze back onto the charcoal. "It's no problem... I had been wondering... what had happened, anyway."

He remains silent, and I try to focus on my water filter. Pack the layer together... Nothing else...

There's nothing else I can do...

* * *

When Furio's released from his little prison sentence, I head over to meet him. There's a cold pack under his chin, and his forearm's bruised, but it doesn't look like he was punished any more than that.

He looks at the clock before he sees me. "What a loada crap! They _want_ all of us to fight, don't dey?"

He storms towards the training area before he notices me. "Ah, hey, Violetta. You been havin' fun widdout me?"

I grip my elbow. "Not really..."

"Well, I'm hittin' up the shelter stands before dis day's gone completely out the window."

"I'll come with you..."

He gives me a nod of acceptance and charges for the stations a little too quickly for me to keep up.

I can't help but pause at the whip station as we pass by. Franziska hasn't come back to it. Of course, they may have banned her from it now...

I glance at Furio's chin and keep moving. Past the racing station, now empty. Past makeshift weapons, game preparation, throwing knives—and there's Franziska. In conversation, she doesn't look up as we pass.

She's from District 2... Why is she training with Adrian... and not the other Careers? There are one or two from each of the three usual districts this year... right? Is she trying to put together a bigger team? Why would she choose someone like Adrian...?

But we're past them before I can hear anything they're saying. I... have other things to concern myself with, anyway...

Swallowing, I catch up with Furio while he gives me the chance, and we hurry to the shelter station.


	6. In Reality

Author's Note: Hey, just a warning that this may be the last chapter for a while. I may not have Internet connection (or time) in the next week or so, so be prepared to wait a little. I do have one more chapter lined up if I get a minute of access, but we'll see if I get the chance to post it.

* * *

Furio manages to put together a decent lean-to; I'm not much help. It's all right, though. He'll do the heavy lifting... I'll do more of the fine work... No problems.

"There ain't much time left today." He exhales, cracking his knuckles and looking to me. "Youse wanna keep workin' on dis or try to get anudda stand in?"

I lean my head back against the wall. I'm still sore from yesterday... I'd really rather do neither. But... that won't help either of us in the arena...

Sitting up, I gaze at the stations across the way. "Let's try somewhere else..."

Furio gives me a nod and hauls himself to his feet.

"What's going on with _this_ station?" a voice much plainer than Furio's starts.

I turn to answer, but the tribute who must have asked is standing across from us. From his back I know he's District 3. Arms akimbo, he stares up at a large screen with white gibberish on a black background.

"I'm afraid the system's down right now," yawns the worker. "Tech guy's probably not going to make it in time for anyone to actually go through the program today. I'll be here tomorrow, though."

The 3's district partner clasps her hands in front of her. "I don't think such a thing will be necessary." Turning, she smiles and gestures toward the other tribute with an open palm. "Glen can look into this himself."

Glen adjusts something that must be his glasses, although I can't tell with his back to me. "It looks like a pretty simple error. Let me see."

He steps up to the keyboard standing in the middle of the station. The worker is too groggy to do anything but lift his eyebrows.

I start to drift that way, but Furio steps in front of me.

"We got bigger things to worry about den computer bugs." He looks up at the banner. "Unless you really got youse heart set on measurin' youse reaction time."

"Right..." I step to the side.

I don't notice Neo until he's almost next to us.

He smiles, putting his hands together. "How's everyone doing?"

Furio turns to snarl at him. "I'd be doin' better if I hasn't been in some stinkin' time-out for two hours!"

Neo keeps smiling, although his eyes flick back and forth for a moment. "Sorry about that. It's a necessary precaution, though—and we got you patched up after that run-in—"

"_Gwoaaaaaaaaaaaar!_" Furio leans over to get in his face. "Youse think one piece of ice is wort two hours a' my life?"

Chuckling, Neo backs up, gives me a glance, and hurries over to check on District 3.

* * *

I practice sprinting for the rest of training time, although the DeLites are elsewhere today. I can't say I'm surprised...

Although I do put a little advice from the instructor into action, I'm still not going to be doing very well by the time the Games start. Even after this short session, it's a struggle to trudge to the elevator, and I make my shower run colder than usual. After that, I'm recovered enough to eat a decent amount and busy all Avoxes on staff with the task of refilling my water.

I linger after dessert before drifting to the common room and leaning against the wall by the elevator.

"Violetta? Youse doin' okay?"

The back of my head staying against the wall, I turn until I see Furio. He stands at a distance with his hands in his pockets.

"I'm fine..." Still... a little tired, though. "I... was just thinking... fresh air doesn't sound that bad?"

He lowers his brows. "Da roof?" He glances over his shoulder at the television before walking towards me. "Sure, no problem. I'll come wit, in case anybody tries to make youse 'jump,' too."

Lifting my hand, I press the up button. " 'Make'...? You mean... you think Celeste didn't throw herself off?"

He jerks his neck to the side, cracking it. "I doubts it. Probably dat Corrida chump shoved her himself."

The elevator dings, but i don't step inside yet. "Corrida...?"

"Guy from 11." He walks over and leans against one of the open doors. "The one dat found the body."

I step inside the elevator, and Furio backs up, locating the button for the roof.

"But why would he...?"

He waits for me to say any more before he grips his low collar. "Yanno, to mess wit the other tributes. Sure looks like he got to Adrian."

"You mean... her accident...?"

Putting his hands in his pockets, he glares at the doors. "Dere ain't no accidents. Not in serious business like dis."

The doors open to the roof before I can come up with a response. It's dark outside, although I can't see any stars. Furio holds out an arm to block the door, and I think him before stepping out. There's a breeze, a little too cool to be comfortable but sort of nice regardless.

I take in a deep breath and walk out further. The ground is gritty and hard, and I can hear a few voices from some other part of the roof.

For now, I traipse toward the side of the building. There's just enough light up here to make out the guard wires around the edge. They're too high up for someone to jump over, and the horizontal wires are too close together to get through easily. Someone as slim as me could probably manage it, though...

I wonder if these were just put in today...

I walk up to them carefully but resist the urge to lean against them as I look across the city. There may not be any stars out tonight, but a vast field of lights is before me regardless. Most are yellow, but red lights blink at the sky, cool blue lights line paths on the ground, and every other color makes an appearance somewhere among the buildings. I've seen shots of the Capitol before, but that's nothing like gazing out at it myself, shivering in the breeze as I try not to let the height get to me.

" 'Sa little gaudy, don't youse think?"

Straightening up, I turn to see Furio at my left. I shuffle to let him over but don't know how I should respond. Was he being sarcastic...? It is a little eyesore if you look at the wrong area for too long... but he doesn't tend to wear colors that are much tamer...

Although he's almost always wearing just orange. I wonder if there's a reason... or if he just really likes orange...?

"...whatever I can to help." The voice at my right seems louder, but no one's coming towards me. Tilting my head to the side, I shuffle in that direction a bit more.

"Although," intones the same voice, "I have to warn you I won't be much good if I have to outright fight."

"You're bigger than her, at least..." This voice sounds familiar, too, but I can't place it. I don't think it's one of the tributes...

"Well," the other woman responds brightly, "if it comes to that, I have a friend who might be more useful. You may have to spend some funds on something a bit... frivolous for him, though."

I creep over a bit more, finally catching a glance of one of the speakers past a large display of purple flowers. She notices me immediately, jerks in surprise, and shakes her head at someone I can't see.

"Hi." Maya gives me a little smile. "Were we being too loud?"

"No..." Gripping my elbow, I peer around the flowers. It's just Pearl sitting across from her mentor. I'm sure it wasn't her voice I heard, though...

"Oh! Miss Viola!" She smiles. "How are you?"

"Fine..."

Maya blinks, letting her feet slip out from under her thighs. "Is she a friend of yours, Pearly?"

"Yes."

Smiling, the mentor puts her hands together and bows. "I'm Maya Fey, from the Eleventh Games. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Viola Cadaverini... And my district partner..." I check over my shoulder to find him a step behind me. "Don Tigre."

Pearl twists until she can see him. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Don!"

He lifts his eyebrows at the both of us. " 'The Tiger' is fine."

"Okay." Pearl looks between us a few times before covering her cheeks with her hands. "Is Mr. Tiger... your special someone?"

"E-eh?" I pull back, my heel grazing his shoe.

He sidesteps me and snarls. "What business is it of youse?"

"I—" Pearl flinches back but refuses to be any more shaken—"I mean, if we're all going to be friends, I can help out—"

"Listen up!" Furio growls, baring his teeth. "I don't care what kinda precious little kiddie youse are, it don't make us _friends_. You even knows why we're all here? Dis ain' some party at the district soda fountain! We're not supposed to make friends wit each other, we're supposed to dig each other's graves!"

Pearl gasps before making a sound and then bursting into tears.

"Pearly!" Maya surfaces—when did she run off...?—and wraps her arms around Pearl's shoulders. Unable to muster anything stronger than a pout, the mentor looks up at Furio.

His eyes are cold as he grins. "Youse might wanna watch youse own step. I hear it ain't too safe for mentors dis high up."

"M-Mystic Maya!" wails Pearl.

"Oh...!" Maya's cheeks puff out a little, but she can't maintain eye contact with Furio for long before hunkering down.

"Come on, Pearly." She gets to her feet, lifting her tribute into her arms with little difficulty. "Let's go back to our floor."

Her crying settling down, Pearl fidgets in discomfort but doesn't make any effort to get to her feet. Maya escorts her to the elevator without looking back.

"Hmph." Furio pops his back and looks back towards the edge. I can't see his eyes under the shadows.

After another minute of shivering out here, he turns back to me. "Gettin' a little—" He cuts off, frowning at me. "Youse doin' okay?"

"Huh? Yeah..." I look at the elevator. "Should we... go back down?"

"Thought youse might be gettin' cold." He heads for the elevator and presses the button before turning to me again. "You—You upset?"

The ring of the elevator seems loud in the silence, and I drift inside.

"I mean—" Furio holds the door open and gets in after me—"it ain't like I was goin' outta my way to pick on the kid. I don't want her to be here; I don't want any a' us to be here. But we _is_ here, and we oughtta get dat through our heads before it's too late."

Nodding, I lean heavily on the railing around the back of the elevator. It's true... All but one of us is going to die. And even after that, we're not really safe... Celeste was proof enough of that...

And now... it's only a few more days before I'm in the arena. Me... Furio... Pearl... Everyone... We'll be dying, one by one...

"But Violetta, Violetta." Furio clasps his hands in front of him, forcing a smile. "I'll take care of youse, no worries."

I swallow, putting my weight on my feet as the doors to our floor open. I... know the danger we're in. I don't need to think about it too much...

I do need to get some sleep... Let's... try to do that.


	7. A Little Girl Time

Furio and I start at the skinning station in the morning, but we're both ready to give up before long. I'm too tired to keep from slipping up and either cutting into the "meat" or myself. Furio seems to have some trouble keeping himself from just stabbing the dummies.

"Would youse rather get some rest?"

The words float around my head for a while before I realize they call for a response. Swinging my head up to see Furio, I let my mouth fall open.

"I... There's... not much time left, though..."

He leans back, yawning himself. "We gotta perform later today, yeah? Better ta miss a little training dan doze off in the middla dat."

"I... guess so..." Although... I won't be doing well in the Gamemaker session, anyway.

"Here." Setting his tools down, he gets to his feet. "Dere's at least one bench by the hand-to-hand station. Youse can lay down there, and I'll check out some of the udda stands around dere."

"All right..." I shut my eyes for a second. When I open them, Furio's right in front of me, offering a hand. I take it, and he leads me away.

After a few fumbled steps, I realize I'm leaning against him pretty heavily. He doesn't mind, though... I hardly weigh anythying, after all...

This might be... the closest I've been to someone I'm not related to...

"Hee... Hee... Hee..."

"What?" Furio squints at me.

"Nothing..." I smile up at him before yawning and letting my gaze slip down.

He drops me off at the bench, and we say our see-yous before he walks off towards some other stand. I shut my eyes, although I'm sure I won't sleep. I couldn't last night... Not when all of it _so close_... Even now... I doubt I'll get enough rest.

I lie in a closed-eyed daze for a while before a voice distracts me.

"E-Excuse me?"

"Nn...?" I stir, rubbing my eyes.

"O-oh! I'm so sorry!" The blur of a tribute in front of me grips something in front of her shoulder. "Were you asleep?"

"Not really..." I blink enough to see the delicate parasol over her head. Her district token, I guess... Mine is just the ribbon from my favorite dress. I had no better ideas... It'll be easy enough to just tie in my hair or something.

Isn't this the girl from the elevator, though? Same face, same hair... Well, same hairstyle...

"Did you... dye your hair?"

"Eh?" She draws back. "No... Oh." She smiles. "Are you thinking of the girl from 12? Dahlia?"

"We do look alike, don't we?" She lets out a breath, standing straighter. "But my name is Melissa Foster. It's... It's nice to meet you!"

"Viola Cadaverini... Same." My head is throbbing, but I can't just ignore her. I'll... get a drink later. "Did you want something...?"

She tilts her parasol back as her eyes widen. There's an odd sort of spark in them... but she's still only smiling, if a little startled. "Oh, I was going to ask if you knew about that terrible young man from 9—but don't worry about it." She closes her eyes, tilting her head with a sweeter smile. "I didn't realize you were trying to sleep. Go ahead; get some rest. I'm sorry for troubling you."

With that, she hurries away, her footsteps silent.

From... 9...? Furio? He's not usually nice, but... he's not terrible. What made her think he was...?

What was she going to tell me...?

I'm... I'm sure it was nothing. Maybe last night on the roof? Although she should have known I was there...

It's not important. I... just need to rest.

But i keep shuffling my legs, and I can't seem to get comfortable. There's nothing wrong with the bench. I... I'm just not in a comfortable situation... That's why I didn't get enough sleep in the first place.

Sighing, I rub at the side of my head and open my eyes halfway.

"Miss Viola! Are you all right?"

I mumble and sit up a little. "Pearl...?"

Sure enough, she's hurrying up to me.

"I'm fine... just tired." Her tear-stained face from last night flashes in the back of my mind. "What about you...?"

She straightens up. "I'm all right, thank you."

"That's good..."

"Pearls? Everything okay?" Footsteps tap as another tribute draws closer. "You ran off all of a sudden."

"Oh! I'm sorry." She turns chewing her thumbnail, as Desirée comes to a stop in front of us. "I thought Miss Viola looked a little unwell..."

"Ah, all right." The 6 woman glances at me. I'm sure she's thinking that... I look unwell all of the time. "You two have met, then?"

Pearl nods enthusiastically. "We're friends. Miss Viola? Have you met Miss Dessie?"

"Sort of..." I dip my head in Desirée's direction. "Isn't it 'Mrs.'...?"

She smiles. "Well, yes. But 'Miss' sounds cuter, don't you think? Especially coming from someone like Pearls."

I stifle a yawn. "I... guess."

Desirée takes a look around before dropping her voice. "Are you still working with your district partner?"

My heart clenches. "Yes. Did... something happen with him...?"

I wasn't paying attention to where he went. Surely, if he's nearby... I would have heard him?

"Well, no. At least, I haven't run into him since he, uh, introduced himself the other day." Frowning, she presses a hand against her collarbone. "Has he been forcing you to stay with him, or is he really, well, an all right guy?"

"Eh?" I start. "I... I mean..." Gripping my elbow, I blink slowly. "I didn't know him before the reaping. I... I'm still only getting to know him, but..." Turning, I hold a fist over my mouth and giggle. "I think... he likes me."

"Huh?"

"R-really?" Pearl squishes her face in her hands. "I knew it! I'm sure you'll be really good for Mr. Tiger, too. He may seem mean, but all he really needs is a special someone to soften him up."

"Um..." I don't know that I've softened him much... or that anything really could.

"Well." Desirée's brow furrows in confusion, but then she smiles. "I guess if it's something like that, it's not so bad." She leans forward, playfulness flashing in her eyes. "So what makes you so sure he likes you?"

I can feel myself flush. How did I get into this...? "He told me... in a way."

"Ooh! What kind of way?" Pearl giggles, and Desirée steps over to take up the other side of my bench.

"Um..." I look between both of their eager smiles but have to stare at the wall beyond them.

Is this what normal girls talk about...? It's... kind of stressful.

But I guess it's kind of fun...

Turning my knees towards them, I take a deep breath and do my best to remember Furio's exact words.

* * *

"Do I hear engine talk?"

Almost dozing again, I crane my neck. Mimi's hurrying over to join the group.

Desirée turns to greet her. "Yes, you do. I—" she swallows—"haven't managed to put the whole motorbike together, but you can find a lot of decent parts lying around."

"Cool." Behind me, she leans her arms on the empty part of the bench back. "I haven't exactly built anything from scratch, but I've still done plenty of work on my car."

Desirée's eyes widen. "You have a _car_?"

Grinning, Mimi leans sideways against the bench and twirls her white hat with one finger. "Yeah, and she's a beauty. I'm lucky they were trying to get rid of it—" She falters and sighs, putting her hat back on. "But, anyway. Let's talk about yours!" She forces a smile.

Desirée tilts her head to the side but doesn't ask any questions. "Well, there's not much more to say about mine. Like I said, it's not in working order. Now..." She lifts her eyebrows at the 10. "Is it Ini or Mimi?"

She takes a step back. "Oh, it's Mimi. I... I just tried something stupid and insensitive at the reaping, is all."

Her reaping... Which one was that? Was she the one... screaming that they had the wrong person?

Desirée reaches over to lay a hand on her shoulder. "It's understandable. No one wants to be in this situation."

"But—" she shakes her head—"of all the things I could have said, I tried my sister's name."

"Your—your _sister_?" Desirée's face twists in disbelief, her eyes flashing with anger for once.

Mimi holds up her hands defensively. "No, it... It wouldn't have put her in any danger, even if they had believed me." She takes off her hat and squishes it in her fist. "I've... already put her in all the danger she's ever going to be in."

Pearl gasps. "Miss... Mimi?"

"O-oh." Desirée settles down a little, but her shoulders stay hunched. "I'm sorry."

Swallowing, Mimi throws her hat back on. "But enough about my car—er, my sister. How... Um, how are all of you doing today?" She forces another smile.

But Desirée and Pearl are both silent, and I'm not sure how to respond. I'm too busy wondering. Her car... Her sister... Was Ini... in a fatal accident, too?

Maybe she's the one that hit me?

No... No, that couldn't be it... She's from a different District. My crash wasn't the only one in the world, either...

"Everybody enjoying themselved?"

I don't recognize Neo's voice until I see him.

"Yes, we are." Pearl straightens up to meet his gaze.

"All right." He rests his hands on his hips. "Just remember, this is your last morning to train. Don't want to use up too much of your time just chatting, right?"

"Right..." I watch him for a minute, but he remains among us as he surveys the area.

"Um..." I lean towards him. "Have you seen my district partner lately...?"

He blinks, looking back at me. "District 9?"

I nod.

He chuckles in an exasperated sort of way. "He got into another fight with a tribute."

Is he serious...? "Franziska... again?"

He shakes his head. "For once, she's not involved. This time, it was Turner."

"Dr. Grey?!" Mimi fists her hands loosely and moans. "What is he _doing_?"

Neo chortles. "Well, he didn't throw any physical punches, so he's still around here, but I'm afraid Furio won't be training any more today."

Putting a hand over my eyes, I slide back in the bench until I'm barely even sitting. "Furio..."

Is this what Melissa was talking about? But... he's gotten into a fight already. What could be so terrible about this one? It sounds like they didn't even take Dr. Grey to the infirmary...

"You see, Miss Viola? Mr. Tiger needs you by his side to keep him out of trouble!"

My hand slides off my face, and I find that Neo is gone. "It... certainly seems that way."

I guess I can't help him much now...

"I'm—" I pull myself up—"going to train a little more..."

"Good idea." Desirée hops to her feet and helps me to mine. "You wanna race?"

"Oh, no..." I wobble a bit. "I'm not very good at running, after all."

"Come on." She grins. "One sprint, to wake you up a little."

I don't know if exhaustion is such a good method for waking up...

"Hey, can I get in on this, too?" Mimi smiles. "Sounds exciting."

"But what about Dr. Grey...?"

She sighs, hands on her hips. "He can last a minute without me. I'm not sure I'd want to see him right now."

"You can join in, sure!" Desirée swings her head around, sending her earrings swaying. "Pearls?"

Pearl hops up and down. "Yes, I'll come, too! This sounds fun!"

"Well... I guess one run can't hurt..."

"Great!" Desirée says. "Let's get to the track."

Pearl takes off, and Desirée hurries after her, laughing. I just walk, but Mimi is content with strolling beside me.

Are we all... friends, all of a sudden? Is that how simple it is...?

But...

Will it mean anything when we're in the arena?


	8. Locks and Chains

Author's Note: I just thought it was about time I thanked everyone for taking the time to review, so thank you, White Weasel, Obiwanlivesforever, and Lord Axxingtons! I appreciate your support.

* * *

When lunchtime is announced, Furio still hasn't come back. Surely they'll let him eat? He's probably going to do a lot more punching if they don't...

Without him around, I don't have much of a way to get to the front of the line... But that's all right. I'm not starving...

I take a spot in line, behind the District 12 girl. One of the few I haven't seen with Pearl, actually... She seems nice enough, though... What was her name again?

"Dahlia...?"

Her hands clasped in front of her, she watches the line ahead shuffle and takes a step.

I'm sure I'm right, though... Maybe she didn't hear me. "Dahlia...?"

She glances over her shoulder, seeming confused before she realizes I'm looking at her.

"Oh! Hello." Blinking, she turns sideways to see me better. "We haven't met, have we?"

"Not really... Melissa mentioned you... is all."

She draws back—although the line hasn't shortened any more—and lifts her hand to her chin. "R-really? What did she say?"

"Nothing much... Just how you look alive."

The queue shifts, and we step forward.

"Oh, all right." She takes a plate off the stack at the edge of the table and hands it back to me. I thank her, and she nods before picking up her own.

"Do you... know each other?"

Gripping her plate hard with one hand, she plucks a napkin off the pile. "No. Not until the other day, at least."

"Ah..."

There's not much more to say at the moment, so I just go through the food line behind her and pick out a cup of tea at the end. I check the line and the tables, but Furio's still nowhere in sight. I'll sit... somewhere, I guess.

"Oh, is your district partner still gone?" Dahlia turns to me and smiles. "You can sit with me if you like."

"Ah... Sure." I follow her to one of the farther tables, but I've only just sat down when Pearl comes hurrying towards us.

"Miss Viola!" She skips a bit, although she has no trouble keeping the vegetables from sliding off her plate. "Are you still doing all right? You must be getting lonely with your special someone gone for so long."

I rub the handle of my fork. "W-well..."

Dahlia turns to see her. "Pearl... Fey, isn't it?" She waits for a nod. "Would you like to sit with us, too?"

"That would be great!" She scurries around and sets her plate straight across from mine before positioning her silverware and sitting down. "I don't know that we've met properly. I'm Pearl Fey, from District 5."

"Dahlia Hawthorne, District 12." Dipping her head, she adds, "Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too..." Pearl, suddenly serious, stares at her hard enough to make me look back at my food.

"U-um..." Dahlia shifts, her clothes rustling. "Is something wrong, Pearl?"

Pearl's voice is quiet but certain. "You're not telling the truth, are you?"

"Wh-what?" She looks close to tears. "Of course I'm not lying. I really am from District 12—" she twists so Pearl can see the number on her back—"see...?"

"Uh-huh..." I pause, my cup near my lips. "I saw her reaping. She's... from 12."

Although she leans back a bit, her green necklace catching the light, Pearl hasn't let up on her stare. "Then you must be lying about your name."

"Ah...!" Dahlia draws back, and a flash of success lights Pearl's eyes. "But—why would I want to hide my name from you? And how could I?" She looks to me for help. "You saw the reaping, didn't you, Viola? They called for Dahlia Hawthorne."

I nod. "No one volunteered, either..."

Why does Dahlia seem so nonplussed... if she doesn't have anything to hide? But... what could she possibly be hiding?

"Then—" Pearl's little face scrunches up a bit, but she doesn't break her gaze—"you must be able to pass for Miss Dahlia."

The District 12 girl shakes her, head, looking down. "But even if someone on the street could mistake the two of us you say there are... The Capitol uses blood—DNA testing. I couldn't fake that."

Pearl falters. "Dee-in-ay?"

Desirée and Ron take the far edge of the table as I catch Pearl's attention.

"DNA... is basically chemicals in your blood. You have a type specific to you... and technology can identify you based on that. You can't change it." I smile a little. "You could try taking someone else's blood to use, I'm sure... but the Peacekeepers would catch you if you tried that at check-in. They can tell you apart from anyone... but an identical twin..."

I slowly turn to my neighbor, who stiffens.

Pearl gives me a cheerful nod of thanks before staring again. "Then Miss Dahlia must be your twin."

"No!" She cringes. "I... No. I'm an only child! And—" swallowing, she straightens up—"there's no reason for me to go around in secret. Wh-why on earth would I pretend i was my twin if I could just protect her by volunteering?"

"Because you couldn't." Pearl frowns, staring hard at the District 12 girl's collarbone. "You... You had ot protect her like this because..." Struggling, she fiddles with her sleeve.

I gasp, gripping the edge of the table. "Because no one could know... she ran to District 8."

"Nooo!" The 12 flinches back before sitting up shaking and sniffling.

Pearl relaxes a little. "So Miss Melissa... is really Dahlia Hawthorne?"

Tilting her head down, "Dahlia" almost covers her mouth with her hand. "Yes... She's my sister." She looks Pearl in the eye, though her voice is almost silent. "There was an incident a few years ago, and the Peacekeepers were after her. She jumped a great distance into a river to fake her death, but... I realized not long afterward that it was too suspicious. Although most bodies that fall in there are never found, it still would have been enough of a loose end for them to pursue."

She exhales. "So I—I switched places with her. The head of the orphanage and I claimed that Iris Hawthorne was the one who had fallen, and that Dahlia was still right here." She sniffles. "I had never made much trouble, so they didn't keep up their search for 'my' body for long. I was punished in my sister's place, but they spared my life in the end."

Someone mumbles as she lets her arms drop, looking between me and Pearl. "But, please, call me Dahlia. The authorities must already have their suspicions about my sister, and I don't want it to come crashing down on her in the arena."

"Um—"

Pearl pushes up her sleeve. "I-I understand, Miss Dahlia!"

"Of course..." I nod. "What... did she do, though...?"

"I—"

Turning towards me, ...Iris... maintains eye contact. "She stole something. Something very important. I don't know what she did with it, but half of the reason I wasn't killed was because no one could find it anywhere I had access to. I..." Her eyes shine with tears. "I wonder if she was looking out for me?"

I suppose you could ask her now...

"Pleeeeeease! Don't just ignore meeeee!"

The whine makes my ears throb, and the other girls shift to bring Ron into view. Biting his lip, he settles down. Desirée can't tell him anything with her mouth full of food, but she doesn't seem particularly surprised by his outburst.

He sighs, head drooping. "I... I just wanted in on the conversation. Well, no, not really... What I mean to say is, I was alrdy lsng bttha..."

Iris is hard-pressed not to laugh. "I'm afraid there's not much more to that conversation. I do apologize for leaving you out, though."

"But—" palms to the table, Ron leans forward—"what _was_ it she stole? A district treasure? A gem? A sculpture? A painting?" He sits back, his face flush. "I'm quite a famous thief back home, so I can't help but be interested in this sort of thing."

Iris goes wide-eyed but responds before I get the chance. "A thief?"

Desirée rubs her forehead but chuckles. Ron just nods. "Yes! The famed thief, Mask✩DeMasque! Of course, I don a disguise during heists so I won't get caught. That would end badly, after all."

I stare at him. A gleam of excitement and pride lights his eyes, and it doesn't seem like he's lying...

"Are you really...?"

He shivers but nods. I glimpse at his wife, who mouths something a few times before I realize it's "it's just his fantasy." She stops and smiles when he glances at her.

"But—" Pearl fidgets—"you shouldn't steal from people!"

"Depends. Whadda we means by 'steal'?"

Everyone pulls away from the table a bit as Furio takes a seat across from me. He puts his plate down with a clang. " 'Sa vague word."

The others seem too stifled by his presence to respond, so I swallow my bite of chicken and jump in myself. "Welcome back... Is everything okay?"

Lip curling, he turns to eye the clock. "Aside from dat, yeah." He turns back to me as he saws off a huge bite of steak. "Shoulda seen it comin', but, you knows, it was only one good punch. I probably wouldn'ta got caught if he hadn't started screamin' about it."

"It was... Dr. Grey, wasn't it?" I could see him screaming about pretty much anything... I guess it really wasn't much, after all. He wasn't kept in the infirmary... and it certainly doesn't sound like he died. Nothing to call Furio a terrible person for...

My district partner swallows without much chewing. "Yeah—"

"Attention, tributes!" Neo's voice is strong, probably because we're sitting right under a speaker. "Please finish up your meals. The Gamemaker sessions will begin shortly. Be ready to enter the training area to perform when your name is called."

"You kiddin' me?" Furio frowns at the speaker, but it doesn't take its statement back. With a growling sigh, he hacks at his steak more quickly. I hope he doesn't choke on that...

"I'm sure you'll, do fine, anyway," I say. "You've trained a lot already..."

"Yeah." He grins. "I hope for their sakes they got some trainin' buddies dat can take a hit."

I chuckle, turning back to my food. For my Gamemaker session... I can't do anything impressive when it comes to fighting. I'll just go around some of the survival stands and demonstrate my skills with that. After all... who cares how well you can fight if you can't secure food and shelter? Your life is still at stake either way...

I won't get a very high score for that, I'm sure... but it's better than curling up and trying to catch some sleep.

It doesn't really matter, anyway. I already have funds, just from back home. A low score... would only keep me from looking like a threat. That's good, isn't it?

Do I have enough money from home...? I would think so... And I'm sure Grandpa is doing plenty of business right about now. I wonder how he's doing. He may be able to drown it all in work right now, but... what about when I get to the arena? I'm sure he'll be keeping an eye on me. Oh, don't let me die...

I take in a breath and make myself swallow some tea. It's okay... It's okay... I'll just do my best. With Furio... and the others as friends, I'm sure I'll be all right. Somehow...


	9. Through the Roof

Although the scores are about to be announced, I'm having trouble focusing on the television.

_"Meet me on the roof tonight, after the news."_

Pearl didn't say anything more than that, to me or anyone else, before she left for her session. What is it she wants to tell me...? Is... no one else invited? Did she ask the same of other people before she came to me?

I guess I won't find out until I go there...

Making myself focus on the television, I realize we're already to the scores for District 2. I didn't hear anything from Furio, though, so I guess there was nothing surprising from District 1.

The bulky guy with a large wart and sideburns gets a score of 7. Franziska receives a 9. This gets a little growl from my district partner, but he doesn't comment. He just scratches his chin.

Glen Elg receives a 5; Lisa Basil, a 4. Next is the boy with a line of stitches going down the middle of his face. He gets a 10. His district partner must be untrained; she only pulls off a 5. Doug Swallow gets a 6, and then it's Pearl's turn.

12.

...

Did they... put her age instead of her score...?

"What the heck is dis?!" Furio jumps to his feet for a second, but then he settles. One hand grips the armrest and the other the front of the couch to keep him from falling off the front of the cushion.

But the announcers look just as shocked, and there's a good minute of discussion before they move on. Ron gets a 7—a 7? Him? But he's so thin... and I can't imagine him wielding a weapon. But what else could he have done for a score like that?

It's even a point higher than his wife's...

Dr. Grey gets a 5, as does Mimi. The blonde from District 8 doesn't do any better. "Melissa Foster" gets a 3. That's a shame, after all the trouble she's been though... I guess she can only get sponsors with her charm.

Furio pops his knuckles as his picture flashes onscreen. A 9 appears beneath him.

"Good job..."

He sniffs. "Dey ain't juding' too straight. Me, no better than that chick wavin' her little whip around? I ain't buyin' it." He puts his feet up on the mahogany coffee table. Our escort would throw things at me if I tried that... but he's not here, not with Furio in the room. "The sponsors better use deir heads a little instead a' trustin' the numbers."

He crosses his arms, muscles tensing as my score flashes. 3. Well... It's not the lowest...

"So the two of us togedda makes 12." He tilts his chin up, showing his canines. "That's the highest score possible, innit?"

"I... guess so." It almost sounds positive when you put it that way... But that's not quite how the math works, is it? Even together, we're only half of what we'd want to be...

But I guess it doesn't matter. We just need to do our best to survive. How good they think our odds are... isn't important.

I focus on the television again to find we're already on Adrian. 4. Really...? She may be small in stature... but she seemed like a fighter. What would Franziska want with her otherwise?

And what does Pearl... want with me? I guess she's not concerned with how useful I am. Did she want to chat a little before we went our separate ways in the arena? But she seemed... very secretive about it. I... I'll find out before too long, right? I'll sit here a while longer. Pay attention...

The show is already on District 12. Terry Fawles gets an 8, and Dahlia—Iris—a 6.

Okay. That's the news. Right...? Is it time to meet Pearl now? I mean... it can't hurt to be early, anyway.

I pull my back away from the couch cushions and get to my feet.

"Violetta?" Furio only looks up at me for a second before getting up, too. His eyes are more confused than suspicious.

I take a step away from my seat. "I'm going to check out the roof again. You can... stay here if you like. You could always have some coffee while you wait. Although the Avoxes don't make it as strong as I do... Hee... Hee... Hee..."

He swallows. "You sure youse wanna go up dere by yourself?"

"Yes..." Is he worried about that "accident"? "I'm sure no one would be able to push me over the edge... with that fence up."

He hesitates, so I turn towards the elevator and slip towards it.

"I-it's still dangerous." Furio cuts in front of me, sweating. "I'd better stay with youse."

"Ah—" I flush as he presses the up button.

I'm... sure it can't hurt for him to come along. Pearl didn't command me to leave him behind... Surely she would expect him to follow me, especially if he's me "special someone"...

Does he really feel that way about me? I talked it over with the girls... and he really doesn't seem like the type that would tell me over and over. If it is like that, I... can't believe this was the way we had to meet. I felt happy enough just being safe with my family. But if I could have run into Furio back home... Would we have...?

It... doesn't matter now. This is what we're involved in together... And this is where we'll try our hardest to stay that way. If we fail... we fail...

But right now, I'm going to talk to Pearl. Maybe she knows some way to help?

How, though? What is she planning to talk to me about...? An alliance? I wonder if Furio—

With a ring, the doors open, and I hurry out at a pace that won't make my head spin. As my eyes adjust to the dimmer light, I can hear some murmurs up ahead.

"The heck?" Furio stomps out behind me.

Some distance ahead, to the right of the flower display, stands Pearl. She's wearing that odd outfit she was reaped in, the pearls of her necklace gleaming in the moonlight. In front of her, a group of tributes sits speaking indistinctly. I recognize Mimi's white hat, Desirée's tire earrings. The boy from 5 pulls his leather jacket on, while Matt spins his gear bracelet around his wrist. Adrian isn't here, though, nor are most of the others.

Did Pearl invite them one at a time? What kind of meeting is this...?

"Oh, Miss Viola!" Pearl smiles, hands behind her back. "Please come and sit down. We're waiting for just a few more people, and then we'll begin." Her head turns a little, and she inhales as she catches a glance of Furio.

"What's goin' on here?" His frown is lopsided. "Youse gonna give a lecture or what?"

Pearl's hand flies to her mouth. "Well—Um..." She chews on her thumbnail. "I'm afraid you wouldn't enjoy it very much, Mr. Tiger. I know it must be hard for you to leave Miss Viola's side, but I promise she'll be safe!"

He squints. "Violetta? You knows what's goin' on?"

"Sort of..." I grip my elbow. "It's fine, though. You can relax on the ninth floor... I'm sure you have some last-minute things to look into...?"

Sweating, he eyes the railing. "Youse sure?"

I chuckle. "I'll be fine. No one would kill me here... in front of so many witnesses..."

"Don't worry." Almost talking over me, Pearl gives him a nod. "No one's going to hurt your special someone on my watch!"

He gives her a look—_What's a runt like youse gonna do?_—but backs up.

"I'll see you later..."

"Yeah. Later." He grimaces but charges inside the elevator before Lisa can get out. She squeezes past him awkwardly and steps up to the flower display, where Pearl greets her. I drift towards Desirée and her husband, sit down, and wait.

Once District 12 joins us, Pearl takes a deep breath and steps back.

"A good evening to everyone. I'm sorry for putting all of you through the trouble of gathering here, but I have something important I'd like to discuss. I have a good reason to believe that you are all people I can trust." Her hand brushes her necklace before she scratches her chin. "So I would like all of you to help me, if you can.

"We may be able to escape in a few days."

A few days...? But the Games start soon. Is she saying...? She couldn't be. That's impossible. That—There's no way... she could pull it off. Even if she only wanted to escape by herself.

"Is she serious?" murmurs Desirée, pressing her hand to her collarbone.

Ron bites his lip. "Yes... Er, no. Actually, I think she's prbbly srous butth's mpossb..." He faces his wife. "...But didn't she get a 12? Maybe...! Oh, I hope it's possible! I love making grand escapes!"

Smiling, she sniffs, resting her cheek on her hand. "Like after you stole that sculpture, right, honey?"

He smiles and nods. "Although... Maybe not _exactly_ like that..."

The others are talking as well, but Pearl politely calls for our attention.

"Now, I'm afraid to say that it might be as difficult as you imagine." Her thumb lingers by her mouth, but she avoids chewing on it for the moment. "Most of the other tributes are too skeptical or determined to win to help with the plan. And, of course, it won't be good for any of us if we fail. So—" she stares out at the quieting crowd—"if you don't want to be involved with this, I understand. You may return to your rooms now and pretend you were never here. I promise I won't hold it against you if we meet in the arena."

She steps back, lapsing back into silence, as the crowd starts discussing among itself again.

She's serious, then...

Only a moment passes before Iris stands, briefly apologizes to Pearl, and rushes to the elevator.

Iris? Why... would she leave? Doesn't she want out of this terrible situation? Is she too afraid of getting caught? Or is it something else...?

Terry, after looking around in confusion, gets up and follows his district partner. I'm not sure he understands what's going on...

Pearl continues to wait, her gaze sliding across all of us.

I'm... going to stay. Of course. Even with Furio protecting me... I only have a small, insignificant chance of winning the Games. If a tribute who scores 12 thinks we can make it out... I'll trust her. Maybe I can convince Furio to join us. I'm sure Pearl tried and failed, but... if it's me, he might listen.

A good minute passes, but the remainder of the crowd stays as it is. Discussions trail off with agreements to hang around, and Pearl steps up again.

"All right," she says. "All of us are working together now. Thank you very much for staying, and I promise I'll do everything I can to make your decision worthwhile. For now, though, I'm going to let the next person speak."

I blink before looking over the crowd again. Who's next...? Another tribute? Maybe Maya? I didn't see her earlier, though...

A gasp comes from in front of me—Mimi. I look to her, although I can only see the back of her head. Is she looking at Pearl...? Is the girl all right?

I snap my gaze to the front of the tributes and suck in a breath myself.

Pearl is gone. In her place—in her clothes and with the same hair as well—stands a young woman briefly adjusting the too-small top before looking out at us. A few more tributes gasp as they turn and see her.

I... know her from somewhere, I'm sure. Where, though? Where have I...?

_"Diego!" Wide-eyed with a sort of disgusted fear, she leaned closer to her district partner and dropped her voice. "What do you think you're doing?"_

That's right...

_Turning the empty mug in his hand, he smirked at her. "Exactly what you think I'm doing."_

_She waited, brow still furrowed, before she heaved a sigh and rested a hand on her hip. "Every tribute in the arena is going to smell that. You want to bring all of the killers straight toward us?"_

_"What's wrong with that?" Leaning over the boiling water and accompanying beans, he drew in a deep breath. "The blackest of hearts are no match for the blackest of brews."_

_Her posture didn't change in the slightest. "I think I feel a migraine coming on..."  
_

She's...

_"Then I guess you'll want a little coffee, too, huh, Kitten? But there's no sugar or cream in sight. Do you think you can handle a drink as bitter as reality itself?"_

_"Sure..." With one last sigh, she straightened up and scrutinized her surroundings for visitors._

"Good evening, everyone," says the woman in front of us with a smile. "My name is Mia Fey."


	10. Initiation

"It was several years ago now," Mia continues, a hand to her chin, "but you may remember me from the Eighth Hunger Games. As you could guess, that was where I died."

She pauses, but no one else feels the need to jump in. Of course it's impossible... But it's true. Mia Fey is dead...but it's not Pearl talking to us right now. And whoever it is sounds exactly like Mia, and has the same face.

"Right now, Pearl is channeling my spirit. This is an ability unique to women in the Fey family, and it's frankly astounding that someone of her age can channel at all." She smiles. "Although, for anyone outside of the family, I'm sure dead women talking is astounding enough in and of itself."

She tugs at the cloth over her shoulder, but it's already giving all it's got. "Now, something else you should know is that I'm not the only one Pearl can channel. But, seeing is believing, right? I'll let my protege explain a little more."

With a nod for goodbye, she's gone. I didn't even see her shrink, but, in the same robes as before, Pearl stands in front of us. She glances around, takes a deep breath, and shuts her eyes.

And then she's gone again. Before us now is a young man of average stature. His face seems familiar, but I can't pinpoint it... He must be dead if he's being channeled, right...? But that doesn't give me many clues. It doesn't mean I know him, either...

Taking a second to orient himself, he brushes his bangs back with his hands. They continue to point straight back as his right hand finds Pearl's updo and tugs at it with a grimace. "I'm never going to get used to this..."

His eyes flash back to the crowd, and he clears his throat, straightening up.

"Hey, everyone. How are we all doing tonight?"

"Uh... good?" Matt smiles in a disoriented way.

"Good." The dead man must see the rest of our blank faces because he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Right, well... Do any of you recognize me, by chance?" He grins, though his eyebrows are still angled outward.

No response.

"Uh..." He sweats a little. "Anyone...?"

I'm sure I've seen that exact exasperated expression before... but on whom?

"Okay, well..." He lets out a sigh and tries to stop slumping. "My name is Phoenix Wright. I was killed in the Hunger Games four years ago—" he points at us—"and I am going to do everything I can to keep all of you from suffering the same fate."

He rubs his chin as he looks out at us. "But I won't be the only one looking after you or working on the grand plan. From what I've been told, Pearls can channel anyone as long as they're dead and she knows their name and appearance. That's still a lot of people." He tries to pull the bottom of the robe down, but it doesn't make a huge difference. "You've probably noticed by now, but her physique changes pretty drastically depending on who she's channeling. But her outfit doesn't change, or her hair—" He stops, his fingers against the back of his head. "Can you guys really not recognize me without my hairstyle?"

I rest my head in my hands. "Well... I thought you looked familiar somehow, but..."

He shivers and shoots a glance at me.

"Now that you mention it—" as Mimi speaks, he turns to her instead—"I do recognize you. But, no, I probably wouldn't have figured it out if you hadn't told me. Not with your hair like that."

Phoenix sweats. "Is my hair really my only recognizable feature...?"

"Naw, dude." Matt smiles. "Your eyebrows are kind of weird, too."

Phoenix's mouth hangs open the slightest bit, his eyes a little dead-looking.

Yeah, he does have pretty unique eyebrows...

"I... think it's about time to hand the reigns back to Mia..." Phoenix makes an effort to stand up straight. "A-anyway. Pearls isn't going to channel everyone tonight, because I'm sure you need your rest as much as she does. But don't be astonished if you see a few people you don't recognize in the arena." He wraps his hand around the green centerpiece of Pearl's necklace. "Pearls should have this necklace on no matter who she's channeling, so keep an eye out for it. You shouldn't attack anyone, of course, but be extra careful around her. She can do some amazing things, but she's still a little girl. If she gets injured while channeling someone, she's still the one that gets hurt."

He eyes us one by one. "That's all I have to say. Let's do our best to make this work. I'll see you around... probably."

He manages a smile—then I blink, and we're back to Pearl. Her bangs fall down around her face as she wobbles and looks out at us.

"Is everyone still doing all right?" She smiles. "I'm going to call Mystic Mia back one last time, and then we'll be done for the night. If you have any other questions, I'll be up here tomorrow after the interviews."

Yeah... The interviews are tomorrow...

I almost start laughing. The interviews are tomorrow. The schedule's just ticking along... A twelve-year-old is channeling the spirits of the dead right in front of me, and the schedule's just ticking along...

Pearl doesn't get any questions, so she exhales and transforms into Mia again.

"Welcome back, dude," chimes Matt.

Mia narrows her eyes where his gaze is focused but turns herself. "Thank you. Now, as far as the plan is concerned... There's not much I can tell you. We won't be attempting anything while we're at this building." She frowns, her chin resting on her fist. "We've been investigating, and security is even tighter here than you would expect. We'll have better chances once we're actually in the arena. It may seem less instinctive, but, after all, they have their own workers around every corner here. In the arena, all they have to watch us are trackers and cameras."

She pauses for a silent breath. "They'll kill us in a second if they catch us trying to flee the arena. But the place doesn't go on forever, and any traps they can throw at us end at the border, too.

"The arena's location, size, and appearance is top secret information. I'm afraid we have no way of figuring it out until we're in the midst of it. Likewise, we won't know what sort of boundaries section off the area until then. Sometimes there's almost nothing, but past arenas have also had anything from sheer cliffs to miles of desert. We need to probe the edges of the area and find the most promising route before we can make much of a plan. It would be far too suspicious if so many tributes went straight for the edges of the arena, so I think it's best to designate only a few scouts to search for us. Which of you thinks you're best suited to covering a lot of ground?"

1-2-3 not me... I'll probably spend my first night out there within sight of the Cornucopia.

Desirée's hand starts to go up, but she pauses and looks at the tribute on her other side. "Think you could keep up, Ronnie?"

"Well, I'd never stop chasing you." He grips his hands in front of him. "But it's not a race, anyway, right? Or... Actually, I guess it is a race in th snstht..."

His wife chuckles and lifts her arm high. "I'm sure we won't be running the whole time. If you're that set on it, at least."

I duck around her to see if anyone else is volunteering. Matt's hand is up, as is Doug's. And so is Ron's, now that Desirée is pulling it up next to hers.

"All right." Mia jots down a note—coded, I hope...—and lowers her pad of paper. "Go at whatever rate feels right for you and scope out the border until you think you've found the safest path out. If you cross paths with one another, do not team up. That goes for all of us. We may be allies, but if so many of us stay together, it would be too easy for them to pick up on our true intentions. Still, stay safe. It sounds like we're still going to have a Career alliance roaming the place, so we can be each other's backup for a while. But only for a while. Communication will be more difficult when we're separated, but it's better to lay low than try to get out as soon as possible."

She brightens up. "Do be aware you have friends in these Games. Be prepared to defend yourselves from others, but don't attack. That shadowy figure may be one of us, and we may yet be able to include the other tributes."

Folding her arms, she lets out a breath. "Aside from that, there's not much else to say. We'll act for the cameras so they won't suspect us. We'll have to disable or gouge out our trackers as well, but that's best to be done right before the escape, so any suspicions come up too late to stop us. If you hear any information from one of us, be prepared to spread it to the next one you see.

"Good luck, everyone." She smiles. "I know there's not much to go on right now, but escape is possible. Believe in yourselves, believe in each other. I know we'll make it out."

Her figure pulls into itself in a flash, and Pearl returns. She checks the notepad before turning back to us. "Okay, so we're all set for now! Thank you all for coming out here tonight. I look forward to all of us working together." She visibly stifles a yawn and starts for the edge of the crowd.

Lisa's the first to follow her, and then all of us start pulling ourselves to our feet.

So we're all allies...

We've all stopped, the glowing elevator light in our sights, so I take a look around me.

Mimi. Doug. Desirée and Ron. Lisa. Matt. Pearl—and everyone she can bring along with her.

Along with Furio, these are the people that are going to try to keep me alive.

Maybe... there's a little hope for me after all.


	11. Personalities

"How did your interview prep go this morning, my flower?"

"Well..." I lower my head as he clasps my necklace behind me. "The escort was hardly happy with me... but he's hardly happy about anything."

He tuts as he gently tilts my chin up and pushes my hair back. "With that type it's better not to listen, isn't it?"

"I guess so..." I close my mouth and eyes as he goes for for the makeup.

Hopefully he's right. I'm no good at acting... and the escort wasn't too happy with my usual self.

_Kah! Your problem is, you're boring! You think slipping in a couple of creepy statements is going to change that? Maybe if you looked like a threat, it would work._ _But you're just a little girl! You'll have to do better than that!_

At least I didn't get any seeds in my eyes...

But... I don't look imposing enough, I don't smile big enough, I don't flirt enough... Well... it's not important. I don't have to worry about sponsors with my family on my side. I'll just answer whatever questions I'm given. Nothing too difficult...

My stylist puts the final touches on my face and costume and points me towards the elevator.

"The best of luck to you, my flower. Do smile whenever you think to. Don't deprive the rest of us."

"Thanks..."

He waves as the elevator doors slide shut between us.

* * *

Furio joins me on the ground floor in a few minutes. His suit has an even wider neckline than usual, and it's a bit more form-fitting, too. It certainly doesn't look bad on him...

"Hey." He gives me a nod and closes the gap between us. "Youse ready for the show?"

"I guess..." Gripping my elbow, I look out at the other tributes milling around. Close enough to hear is District 6—Ron in a fancied-up green costume with epaulettes and Desirée in a slinky, yellow thing that I can't consider a full outfit. Giving her husband's shoulders a squeeze, she promises something about it being just for him.

Franziska is talking to her district partner and the male from 1. The 4 boy with stitches his stylist felt no need to disguise hovers just outside the group.

The pack of Careers is still going to be a threat... Not a single one of them came to the roof that night. I wonder how hard Pearl tried to get to them...? And how did she decide who could be trusted? Was it ambition or skepticism that kept them out of the plan?

Where's Pearl, anyway...? She's kind of hard to spot in a crowd.

"All right, everyone. Line up."

I swallow as the din goes from chatter to nothing but footsteps. Taking my place between Furio and the 8 boy, I gaze at the ceiling for a minute.

"Hey, don't be nervous." Eyes fixed ahead, Furio shrugs as I turn to him. "Dis ain't no big deal."

"Right..." I'm not sure that I'm really nervous. More like... distracted.

I press my cold hands against my cheeks to cool them down. After a few moments with my eyes closed, I hear the line shift, and I follow the tribute in front of me.

All right. I should pay attention. I'll be sitting onstage the whole time, so I might as well listen to the interviews before me. It'll help me keep track so I don't have to hurry to mine.

Okay... Let's see what happens.

The girl from 1 tries a little too hard to be cutesy, but her district partner plays the big and sullen role well. Franziska stays at a manageable level of smug and self-assured until Halen the interviewer asks about her brother.

"How would you say Manfred has influenced your decision to compete in the Games?"

She narrows her eyes. "Halen Crask!" A loud snap echoes across the floor, and I can only stare in disbelief when she stretches a whip over her head. How does she keep smuggling that everywhere?

"Who are you to speak of Manfred von Karma so casually? And without even a proper introduction?" The tip of her weapon snaps inches in front of the interviewer's nose this time.

He leaps back and throws the audience a look. "I, uh, I'm sure you all remember the fantastic Manfred von Karma from the Eighth Games. A-a skilled and efficient swordsman, he tied for the most tributes defeated that year."

Franziska, whip stowed, folds her arms. "Thank you." She clutches at her sleeve a few times before exhaling. "He was very influential in my perception of the Games. With my parents of questionable value, he was the one I looked up to, and... I hope to follow in his perfect footsteps."

Halen, eyes flicking around a bit, points the microphone back towards himself. "You do, of course, plan to win?"

Her whip goes over her head, and he jumps back.

"Only a fool would be foolish enough to foolishly assume that a von Karma would accept defeat!"

I can tell from his eyes... He's too intimidated to bring up the part about the other von Karma being defeated.

Her district partner whose name I can never remember—Kane Bullard, apparently—doesn't give away much. He seems good-humored enough... although he could probably kill a person by sitting on him, let alone... other methods.

"And what," Halen asks Lisa, "would you say the odds of you winning would be?"

She folds her hands in front of her. "If we assume the victors win in a purely random fashion, then, of course, I would have a 1-in-24 or 4.16—repeating—percent chance. In reality, the computations are much more complex and nearly impossible to calculate; however, if given immediate access to enough data from the past Games, I'm sure I could come up with a better estimate." She tilts a bit, holding one hand out as if displaying something. "Would you like me to attempt this algorithm now?"

Halen chuckles along with the audience. "I'm afraid we can't get you any data at the moment, and we don't have much time. Maybe you could figure it out after you come back victorious?"

"At that point, I'm afraid such a calculation would be unnecessary. My chance of success then would necessarily be 1, or 100%."

"Bah, all right, all right." He lets his mike hand go limp as he gives the audience a head shake. They laugh. "In lieu of that, then... What can you tell me about your training score?"

She stands straight again. "I'm sorry; I do not understand your question. Please rephrase your query and try again."

Well... She certainly has a memorable angle. I wonder if that's helping or hindering our escape...?

Halen lifts his eyebrows at the audience and turns back to her. "I mean, how did your session with the Gamemakers go?"

"I'm sorry, that data is SuPer-Admin Restricted Desktop Access password-protected."

He slowly rotates to face the crowd. "I guess it's a secret."

Glen's a little twitchy. He keeps spinning something in his hand as he tells the audience he's the one to bet on. The next girl is flirty and bubbly but otherwise hardly enthralling.

The career from 4 is named Shelly de Killer. The back of his head looks normal. I guess if you managed to pull out the stitches, it would only tear apart his face... It might be the only way to make him stop smiling...

"I assure you that I will win these Games," he tells Halen. "My district has entrusted me with this task, and I will not break that trust."

Although Pearl gets a chance to show off how cute she is, most of her interview concerns that 12 in training. She's not spilling any secrets, though. I guess she thinks the Capitol has to see it to believe it... and that now isn't the time.

Her district partner goes on for a bit about the thin line between medicine and toxin, and then comes Desirée. Although her outfit makes me think she's going for the sexy angle, she just answers everything with good humor. I guess Halen is trying not to break the mood; he doesn't mention her husband. But it turns out he was just saving that part for Ron.

"Now, I've noticed that you and your district partner have the same surname."

"Yes, we do!" Ron rustles the sides of his long coat between his fingers. "That's because Dessie... is my beautiful wiiiiiiiiiiife!"

Halen cringes at the mike feedback as Ron looks down.

"Er, wait. That's not right. I can't possibly just cll hr btiflnd nthglse..."

"Sorry, what was that?" Eyeing him warily, the interviewer gets the microphone closer to Ron's mouth.

"What?" Ron smiles.

Between his screeching and mumbling, he doesn't give the most coherent interview. Halen nearly slouches in relief when he calls Mimi to the front.

She doesn't have much of an angle aside from randomly failing to respond. Actually... it's usually when her district partner or family is mentioned.

Halen innocently asks Dr. Grey, "What's the best food you've had during your stay in the Capitol?"

"What kind of question is that?" Turner clenches his fingers at the air. "None of it! This is all supposed to be great food, but I've never been served something I like! Even when the cooking was halfway decent, the servings were so small I didn't even get to taste it!" He pushes his glasses up on his nose. "Just last night I was making an effort to enjoy what little they saw fit to give me, and halfway through I noticed an eyelash in it. An eyelash! With colored mascara! I'm lucky I wasn't poisoned!"

Halen pulls the microphone away before the 7 can keep going. "Well, I'm sorry to hear about that. Are you at least looking forward to the Games? How do you think you'll fare?"

"Hmph." He relaxes a little. "I certainly wouldn't say I'm looking forward to it, but I can assure you I'll do quite well." He hunches a bit, grinning. Although the only screen I can see is pretty far, the crazed light in his eyes is enough to make me wince. I'm starting to suspect why Pearl didn't invite him to our group...

"You don't think something like this would scare me, do you?" All his fingers are curled into claws now. "I hold life and death in my hands on a daily basis. This competition is barely even a nuisance to me."

He stays like that for a minute before jumping on his next chance to complain about the Capitol.

Next, Melissa gets off to a slow and tearful start because she was so shocked at Dr. Grey's words. Luke Atmey, however, doesn't seem to have paid any attention to the other tributes.

"An Ace Detective, you say?" Halen adjusts his necktie. "You're not going to deduce the names of my girlfriend and cats, are you?"

A few people in the audience laugh for a reason I can't quite figure out.

Luke removes the magnifying glass over his eye to polish it. "Any simpleton could intuit such things from your choice in accoutrements alone, Sir Interviewer." Replacing the odd monocle, he grins and flashes the large ring on his left hand. "Ace Detective Luke Atmey is capable of far greater!"

He then proceeds to somehow link Halen's hairstyle and cuff links to his love of some reality TV show. Apparently he's right, though. Maybe he heard Halen mention it in some other interview...

After a few more "deductions," Luke's turn is over.

I'm up.


	12. Two Paths

I make myself approach Halen slowly so I won't seem nervous. He manages a warm smile despite his burnt-charcoal makeup and waves me forward.

"Welcome to the spotlight, Viola. How are you feeling today?"

"Well enough." I quickly tug on part of my cowl so it doesn't stick to my face. "Although I'm afraid getting dressed up... isn't the most exciting pasttime..."

"Oh, I see. What is it you would have rather been doing?"

"Hee... Hee... Hee... Well, there are a few tributes who have opposed me... But I'm afraid you wouldn't like me having _fun_ with them yet..."

His eyebrows rise, and he makes sure the audience knows it. "You're looking forward to the competition, then?"

"Of course..." I trail into a whisper. "It's such a wonderful opportunity to _play_."

He doesn't miss a beat. "And would you consider yourself a top player? With your score on the low end, you'd have to be hiding something."

I just smile at him.

He slowly turns his head to view the audience, which is murmuring, before he looks back at me. "No hints?"

"There's nothing wrong... with a few surprises."

"I see. Is there anything you'd like to surprise us with right now? Perhaps... anything you'd like to tell us about your life back in District 9?"

I clasp my hands in front of me, the slick, black fabric of my sleeves bunching at my wrists. "I led an excellent life... because of my grandfather and my brother. You could call it pampered, but that doesn't mean I'm soft."

He nods. "I would never assume that. How about friends? Or crushes, perhaps?"

I feel my eyes flick to the side, but I keep from turning to Furio. He could count as a crush, but—but he's not from back home, not like that. I... don't think he's relevant to the question...

A shiver going through my shoulders, I lean closer to the microphone. "I'm a bit of a loner..."

"Really? No one outside your family at all?"

"Not really. My family is enough for me... It's a very... distinguished family, after all."

He pulls back the tiniest bit. "The Cadaverinis, eh? Can't say I've heard of them, but, then again, I don't live in that neighborhood." He swoops his head towards the audience with a look that gets them laughing whether or not his comment amused them.

His teeth gave an odd chatter in the middle of that... Perhaps he has heard of us? Strange... I don't know that he even visits the districts.

"Is there anything you'd like to tell this family of yours, Viola?"

I hesitate before drawing in a deep breath. "I know you're supporting me." Well, I know Grandpa is... and Celio... may or may not be. I'll assume that he is. "Don't worry too much... I have every hope of making it out, and with good reason." I try to smile at the cameras, but in the midst of the stage lights I'm not sure where they are.

Halen turns to the audience and puts a hand on my back. It's not that unpleasant, but I still give him my creepiest smile until he drops it.

"And we share that hope with you, Viola Cadaverini, District 9."

He nods at me the slightest bit, and I take it as a dismissal. I drift back to my chair and take a seat. Furio gives me a nod before charging to the front of the stage himself.

I don't know that I did particularly well... but I didn't choke up. That's all I could have hoped for.

Furio tears through his interview without a mention of me. But when there are so many other things to talk about and the interview grind to a halt twice because of his roaring, I can't say I'm offended. He doesn't have to tell everyone he likes me... Maybe it's even a little more special... as a secret between the two of us.

I give him a smile when he comes to sit next to me, but he only glances at me before watching Adrian step up. As always, her shoulders are bare, but sleeves cover her forearms. After seeing the puffy scar line from her "accident" yesterday, I don't have to guess why.

"Now, forgive me for saying this, but you seem to have a lot of confidence considering your training score. Were you hiding something?"

She doesn't blink. "What an idiotic question. If I was trying to hide something, I certainly wouldn't tell you now. If I wasn't, I wouldn't make myself sound weaker by admitting it. No sane tribute would answer that honestly. I think you should pick your questions more carefully; otherwise, you'll just be wasting what little time I have here tonight."

Her district partner is a little more friendly to the interviewer.

"An acting troupe?" Halen holds his non-mike arm akimbo. "How big a player are you in it?"

"Dude, I'm the _star_." He smiles, fisting a hand in front of him. "I tried out for the main character when the gang was pulling itself back together, and, uh, I got it! I do great, too. You should totally come watch a show sometime."

Halen nods enthusiastically. "Of course! Although I'm curious—you make it sound like they were around a while before you tried out. Were you waiting for them to come together, or do you think they were waiting for you?"

He smiles dumbly for a minute. "Uh, both? I dunno, dude. I used to watch some of their shows, and then they broke up after... uh... what's-his-name ended up losing in the Games. And then we all just kinda found each other."

I hear Adrian scoff, but she's frowning straight ahead when I glance at her.

He doesn't say much about his family other than fawning over his cat, and the girl after him stumbles over her words in a chirping matter. Even Halen has trouble keeping that interview together.

Juan Corrida apparently got the same score as Matt, as he spends half of his interview arguing with the 10 over who deserved it more. They're both smiling and laughing about it, but Juan's eyes are a little too hard.

Iris talks about her life as an orphan and the wonderful mother figure she was able to have. Her district partner doesn't have the vocabulary skills to provide the greatest finale, but when he's done, we're all done. We rise from our chairs, allow Halen to call for one last round of applause, and file back into the building. The first batch makes it into the elevator before me, and I shake my head at Furio when he offers to clear it.

So... should I go back to my room, or the roof? I'm as tired as always, and I can't think of any particular questions for Pearl... but I feel like I should show up, anyway. It would be nice to see the Capitol from above one more time... in a nice, warm outfit, too.

"Don Tigre?" I straighten my hood so the downward-pointing triangle at the top is straight over my nose. "I'm going to the roof again... Would you like to come?"

He frowns, brow low and eyes inquisitive. "Might as well. Why you goin', dough?"

I glance around—are there cameras here?—before exhaling. If no one from the Capitol is listening... unwelcome tributes still are. "I'll tell you... when we get there."

His expression doesn't lighten. "A'right."

Adrian and Juan ride to the roof as well, but they drift off towards the wrong side. When I locate Pearl, only her district partner is sitting by her. She notices us immediately, perking up.

"Oh! Miss Viola! Mr. Tiger! Welcome!" Getting to her feet, she holds her hands behind her back. "Was there anything you wanted to ask me?" She blushes and covers her cheeks with her hands, peeking through her fingers. "You want to bring your special someone with you, don't you, Miss Viola?"

"Well... yes." I take another step towards her. "If you'll have him."

Furio frowns, his mouth open a tiny bit. "What's dis all about?"

I give him a nod of acknowledgement and turn back to Pearl. "Was there a reason he wasn't invited earlier...?"

She looks down. "I'm afraid he just wasn't listening to me." She looks up at him, pushing the oversize sleeve of her costume up. "But will you now, Mr. Tiger? Now that Miss Viola has asked you to?"

His brow furrows a little more, and he looks between the two of us. "Sure. Hit me." Scratching his chest, he takes a seat on the cement bench to his right. I join him, sitting close enough to feel his body heat.

"I'm so glad!" Pearl smiles. "If I were to summarize what we're trying to do, it would be... escaping the arena. It won't be easy, of course, but we have several tributes teamed up, and I'd be more than happy to include you."

Gripping the edge of the bench, he leans toward her. "What did youse say you was doin'?"

She pulls back a bit, but not enough to bump into Doug. "Escaping the arena, you mean?"

"Yeah, dat!" He bares his teeth. "Youse really dense enough to think youse could do that? We haven't been havin' the Games for fifteen years 'cause the tributes can break out whenever dey want!"

Pearl nibbles on her poor thumbnail. "We have looked into it, though, and the security isn't impossible to get past—"

"A course it is! I don't knows how hard youse was looking, but it wasn't hard enough. The Capitol's not so numb in the head it thinks we ain't gonna try to escape! Whatever holes in the defenses you saw? Probably a trick to get you right where dey want you."

"N-no!" Pearl's little eyebrows lower. "I promise, there's really a way to get out! We'll have to look for it, but—"

"Youse don't even know where it is?" Gripping the sides of his collar, he tilts his head back. "I'm runnin' outta reasons to listen to you real fast. I bet youse just tryin' to lead everybody into a trap. I mean, you're just a runt—what udda chance you got, right? It ain't a bad strategy as far as youse options go, but I ain't fallin' for it."

Pearl gasps. "No! That's not true!"

But Furio is already getting to his feet. "Come on, Violetta. We ain't got any reason to be here."

I get up to follow him but hesitate. He can't be right, but... He does make sense... And I know he's a lot more street-smart than I am. But surely Pearl wouldn't do something like that? I guess I don't have any real reason to trust her, but... I'd like to.

"Wait one moment."

With my cowl on, I have to look up to locate Doug. Not quite in the middle of Furio's path to the elevator, he stands firmly.

"What?" Furio snarls. "Just 'cause youse dumb enough to fall for it don't mean youse gotta drag me into it, too."

"You've made some invalid assumptions, chap." He folds his arms. "Aside from thinking I'm more simple-minded than you, have you forgotten about her training score? Would a tribute who scored a 12 really need to resort to such behavior?"

Furio spits. "No tyke her size gets a score like dat. She musta bribed the Gamemakers."

Doug holds his hands out. "And pray tell, if bribery is such a reasonable solution, why didn't you 'score' a 12 yourself? I hear you've quite the fortune back in your district."

With a scoff, Furio lets his tongue hang out. "Why bribe the gatekeeper when youse can climb the fence? And before you ask, Violetta's family is smart enough to know nobody'd believe it if she got a 12." He gives me a nod. "No 'ffense."

"None taken..."

Doug frowns, crossing his arms again. "Pearl, it looks like you'll have to show him your skills firsthand."

"Oh, dis is rich." Furio laughs—it's more of a growl than a chuckle, but I can tell when he's amused—and turns to watch Pearl.

"I understand." She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and channels Mia. Thankfully Pearl's bright purple poncho-shirt is looser than her usual garb.

Mia blinks and takes a look around her. "The roof?" Her eyes slide over all of us before resting on Doug. "Am I meant to be answering a question right now?"

Doug gestures at Furio. "He didn't think Pearl received her score through her own means."

"I see." Folding her arms, she smiles at my district partner. "Maybe it still doesn't quite count as her 'own' means, but Pearl got that score fairly, I can assure you. I was there for some of it, after all."

Furio just stares at her. "So what? You tellin' me youse got a 12 for some cheap parlor trick?" He pulls at his collar. "Little smoke an' mirrors ain't killin' anybody."

Mia frowns. "Spirit channeling is no parlor trick. Through this technique, Pearl has access to the knowledge and strength of many people. Go ahead, ask something you think only Mia Fey herself would know." She smiles again. "That's me, by the way."

"Come on, Violetta. We're done with dis." Furio shoves Doug onto the ground with one hand and charges toward the elevator. I try to come up with a response before hurrying after him.

"Hold it!" Mia darts ahead of us and blocks off the elevator buttons. Glaring at Furio, she says, "I understand if you refuse to believe in Pearl, and I'm sorry to hear it. But at least don't drag Viola away with you. She can make her own decision." She turns to me, her eyes softening a bit. "Would you rather trust his judgment or put your faith in Pearl and the rest of us?"

"I..." I take a step back.

I... I trust Pearl. But I trust Furio. He loves me, after all... But he doesn't trust Pearl. But I'm sure the one in front of me is Mia Fey... isn't she? I was so sure... Could Pearl have fooled so many of us? But—

In an orange flash, Furio's arm rams Mia into the wall just behind her. Immediately, the elevator dings, its doors opening before she can right herself.

Furio laughs as he puts one foot over the threshold. "Youse think she's gonna choose you over her... _special someone_?" he says in a mocking voice. "Come on." Eyes on me, he nods at the elevator behind him. "Get away from dis blockhead before she tries any more tricks."

Struck silent, I gaze at the scene before me. Furio stands, waiting for me to go back to our floor together. A step away from the elevator button now, Mia—Pearl?—coughs but eyes me steadily.

I... I don't know...! Who should I...? What should I...? I... I don't want to doubt either of them.

I... I'd rather lose Pearl's trust than Furio's.

Swallowing, I step into the elevator. Furio's eyes gleam with victory as he jabs a finger at the Close Door button.

The Fey outside doesn't break gaze with me, though. "You can always change your mind."

The doors shut her off.


	13. Expectations

I have to get some sleep tonight. I'll be in the arena tomorrow... or maybe today... I haven't checked the time in a while.

I shouldn't be so worried. Furio is on my side... even if the others might not be. It didn't sound like Mia took my decision to heart that badly, so I'm sure I could join forces with her again.

Unless that really wasn't Mia. It's hard to say... when I never knew her personally. But I saw her and Phoenix both in the Games... Pearl looked and sounded just like them... Could it really all be a trick?

I roll over, pulling the covers closer.

E-either way, there's not too much to worry about, right? It'll only be the first day... As long as I can avoid the Careers, I won't have any trouble. Furio will be looking after me... and a lot of the other tributes won't be ready to attack me so soon, anyway. The arena itself is dangerous, but I'm sure the two of us can handle it.

And then after that... We are going to escape... right? I have to trust Pearl for that. She's in charge of the getaway, and it was her idea in the first place. But I do trust Pearl, don't I...? I let her down tonight, but... she couldn't be tricking me. She couldn't.

Of course, that means Furio is wrong. But... that's okay. No one's perfect. I can trust him even if we disagree for now.

Although I still wonder why they were calling him horrible in the Training Center...

This is no time to be thinking about this! I need to get to sleep. I trust both parties. There is no reason to doubt them. I can worry about things if I need to... but not now. Now I need to sleep... Please... Sleep...

Though I'm dead tired and the mattress is as wonderful as ever, I don't manage to drift off for some time.

* * *

My only company in the hovercraft is my stylist. I don't know why they want me by myself as far as tributes are concerned... Too dangerous?

Well, there's nothing I can do to change that. My only options are to wander around or eat, and I can't say I have an appetite.

I shouldn't be this nervous... Everything will be fine...

The hovercraft hums along. I think I see coastline out the window before it darkens. And the flight continues.

The touchdown is smoother than I would expect, and then I'm led out the door and into the launch zone. I'll have a little time to change clothes and use the bathroom before I have to step onto that shining, circular plate.

The shirt is tan, sleeveless, and slick. According to my stylist, it's also sweat-wicking. Paired with it are darker brown shorts with a belt and plenty of pockets. The hooded, button-up jacket matches the shirt. No socks are provided, but I guess they wouldn't go well with the black "water shoes."

"I'm afraid it's going to be a bit warm out there, my flower. The jacket's probably just for the nights."

I crinkle the thin fabric between my fingers. "So... should I just tie it around my waist for now?"

He scrunches his mouth to the side in the closest approximation to a frown he has. "It could slip off while you're running, and it would be a shame to lose it."

"All right..." I shrug it on over the shirt.

"It may also be good for keeping sun or rain off you." He buttons the jacket once, right in the middle. "Use your own judgment, my flower. I trust you."

I pull the collar closed for now. It's still chilly down here. "Thank you..."

I focus on my breathing for another minute before a different voice echoes in the room.

"It's time to prepare for launch."

My next breath hitches in my throat, and I have to stand here coughing for a second before my stylist hands me a glass. I nod at him and choke on some water before I calm down.

"Thanks..." I hand the half-full cup back to him.

"No problem." He pats me on the back and leads me to the platform. I step up onto it and stare at the spot above me. It's dark. I guess I shouldn't have expected a preview of the arena. There's not much longer to wait, after all...

I close my eyes for a second, rubbing the ribbon in my hair between my fingers. The bow is tied tight... It shouldn't fall out...

...Okay. Nothing to worry about. All I have to do... is find Furio. Things will take care of themselves from there.

A pang still hurts my chest when the tube starts to come down around me.

My stylist rests his chin on his interlaced fingers and smiles. "You'll be fine, my little flower. Chin up."

I can't reply with the glass now sealed around me, so I give him a small smile and look up as the platform rises. The darkness only lasts for a few moments before the glare of the sun makes me shut my eyes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let the Fifteenth Annual Hunger Games begin!"

I squint and then work my eyes open. In front of me, the side of the Cornucopia reflects enough sunlight to make me look away. The ground is sand in every direction. To my right is Ron, whose face darts around as he searches for his wife, and some distance past him is a shoreline with quiet, steady waves. The girl from 11 is on my left; past her are several palm trees and shorter plants.

After a moment of scanning, I find Furio. He's four plates to my right. Not too far... Once the gong sounds, I just have to hurry over there. As long as I don't crash into anyone between us, it should be over in no time. Then we grab some supplies and run to safety.

All right... I've got this.

Ron's eyes are focused straight ahead, so I know to go behind him. Mimi's a little too far away to tell, but she's wavering. I should be able to go around either way, I think... Past her—

_Gonnng!_

With a gasp, I surge forward. Overtaking the sound of the waves is the swishing and crunching of footfalls in sand. Not slowed in the least, Ron takes off ahead, allowing me to take a step on and off his more stable starting plate. As my shoe sinks into the grainy ground again, I shoot a glance up to make sure Furio hasn't moved too far.

He's two lunges closer to the Cornucopia, his hands around the District 1 girl's throat. How did she get there? Was she right next to him?

I have to get to him either way...

Mimi is one step behind her platform, so I swerve in front of her.

The next glance at Furio shows him tossing the 1 girl to the side, her head flopping like a poorly-stuffed doll's.

Wait— But—

Oh, right... She can't be dead. There was no cannon.

No, wait. They don't sound them this soon. And the angle of her neck...

I'm standing still. I shouldn't be standing still...!

Swallowing, I dart forward. She was a Career, wasn't she? She must have tried to attack him... and he defended himself. Right. That's all. It's better to have someone like that... taken care of from the start.

It looks like the 1 girl was the last tribute between us; the next starting plate is empty, so I head straight for it. Then the sand is slipping around underfoot again, and I gasp for breath.

"Don Tigre...!"

Scooping up a jug of water with one hand, he cranes his neck quickly to see me. "Hurry!" He nods me his way and keeps approaching the Cornucopia.

I catch up by the time he grabs a small folding cot. He shoots me another glance, checks around us, and hurries toward a set of knives.

Glen beats him to it.

I hop back. We might be about to turn around... The last thing I want to do is trip him up. And while I'm here, I might as well pick up this—

"Outta my way!"

I pull my hand up, but Furio isn't facing me. Seizing Glen's arm, he growls and yanks him back. While the 3 tries to gather his feet beneath him, Furio grabs the pack of knives.

"Hey!" Glen attempts one pull back before glancing around for a route of escape. Furio twists, nearly slinging Glen's back onto his before throwing him to the ground. My district partner rips one of the knives from its little sheath and...

I-I'm seeing this wrong. Furio has no reason to slit any throats. Glen didn't attack... It's just a few knives...

Glen wasn't at the meeting, but surely Lisa planned to talk to him. He's... not an enemy? But then why would Furio... This can't be right.

"Violetta!" Keeping the one knife in hand, he throws the rest of the pack at me. I put my hands up instinctively but still fumble with the catch. Thankfully, nothing tumbles out before I have it gripped at knee level.

Furio nudges Glen out of his path, the blood on his blade gleaming in the hot sunlight, as he reaches for a box with a red cross on it.

He really killed him... He...

"All right, come on!" Arms full, he swoops back to my side and starts pedaling away from the Cornucopia. I clutch the knives to my stomach in an attempt to settle it and stumble after him.

There's clanging and shouting behind me, and, swallowing, I check to see if anyone is too close.

No... The closest ones behind us are the corpses Furio made... Farther on... A whiplash strips the flesh off Lisa Basil's stomach. Shelly de Killer removes a knife from Dr. Grey's torso. Melissa wails beside a fallen Doug Swallow. The boy from 2 staggers backwards, a spear in his hands and blood pouring from the side of his head. At least two more lie motionless.

This isn't right... We're supposed to escape. As many of us as we can convince. We're supposed to be teaming up. This...

This isn't supposed to be just another Hunger Games...

So why does it look like it is...?


End file.
